


(Un)Lawful Punishment

by AW1



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternative Season Two, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Torture, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, F/F, Gang Rape, Graphic Description, Healing, Homophobia, Imprisonment, Internalized Homophobia, Major Character Injury, Mind Manipulation, Mindfuck, Mistakes, Parent/Child Incest, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Penance - Freeform, Period-Typical Sexism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Regina has no magic, Self-Harm, Sexism, Statutory Rape, Suicidal Thoughts, The Savior (Once Upon a Time), Torture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Young Evil Queen | Regina Mills, exiled, trial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 41,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25770583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AW1/pseuds/AW1
Summary: After the apple turnover incident, Regina is convicted during an unlawful trial headed by Snow White. She is exiled back to the Enchanted Forest after 28 years, into The Royal Castle's Dungeon, specifically the 'Whatever Goes Cell'.Regina is left defenceless (without her magic) and at the mercy of the guards and worse. The fallen queen learns just how far the not so Charming Charmings are willing to go in pursuit of 'justice'.Emma and Henry are out of town when the trial occurs. How will they react when they return to Storybrooke to learn their Madam Mayor is 'missing'? And what will Emma do to find her?This is a harrowing torture and healing fic with Regina at its centre. Emma is the prickly, kick ass Saviour of the early seasons. Snow White and Prince Charming are conniving, spoilt and dangerous brats who try to hide behind their 'good' name.Eventual SQ.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 401
Kudos: 572





	1. And so it begins

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there,
> 
> I know Henry was the reason Emma and the Storybrooke townsfolk didn't burn Regina at the stake after the Apple Turnover incident. But what if Snowing jumped at the opportunity to rid themselves of their arch rival, whilst the Saviour is out of town?
> 
> Please heed the warnings and take care of yourselves. This will get ugly. Trigger warning for threats of rape/non con elements in this chapter.

So, this is what has come of her: The Evil Queen, the Mayor of Storybrooke, banished to the Enchanted Forest, having been found guilty of a plethora of heinous crimes ranging from murder to tyranny. Regina Mills has the unenviable status of being a serial killer _and_ a mass murdering tyrant. 

The petite, yet powerful, brunette drags herself off the floor of her new home: a rat-infested cell in the darkest, dankest depths of what she assumes to be the Uncharmings hellhole Castle. 

Regina angrily brushes straw and other less identifiable detritus from her tailored pant suit as she truly takes in her surroundings for the first time. 

She is in solitary; four walls, low ceiling, a tiny barred window a mouse wouldn’t fit through, a lone candle and a heavy-duty wooden door with an improvised hatch at the bottom, for slop presumably. 

_Unusual_ _,_ Regina notes, surprised she hasn’t been put on display in a multi-celled room. 

That’s what she would have done with Snow White. Regina would have dethroned her of her infuriatingly smug grin and paraded her in front of her fellow prisoners, humiliating her for the rest of her damned rainbow and unicorn sticker days. 

Somehow, that smug little urchin has once again succeeded in ruining the now fallen queen's life, Storybrooke having been a 28-year reprieve from the spoilt queen’s reign of eye wateringly hypocritical ‘righteousness’, ‘hope' and ‘second chances'. 

_Snow White is no better than I!_ Regina snorts decisively, secretly in awe of the elf’s manipulative ingenuity. Or was she giving the blue-eyed nymph utterly too much credit? 

_Probably_. 

Her excessively dense followers blinded by the _supposed_ ethereal beauty and kindness of their beloved queen. 

Regina runs a hand through her perfectly coiffed hair as she paces the 6x5 cell; her new home, having been sentenced to several hundred lifetimes of solitary confinement, a lifetime for each and every soul she extinguished. 

A worthy punishment for a deviously evil queen. Just, they imprisoned the _wrong_ queen. 

_That d_ _amn Snow White!_

_835 centuries alone in th_ _is_ _hovel is preferable to_ _any amount_ _of time_ _spent_ _with that excessively smug_ _idiot_ _._

In truth, Regina had lost count of the sheer number of people she’d killed, until the trial. 

_Well, if you could call_ _eight_ _days of_ _victim testimonies in front of a panel_ _comprising of_ _a barely equipped cricket,_ _a blood thirsty granny and_ _the_ _highly unbiased_ _,_ _s_ _poilt_ _qu_ _een herself_ _, a trial_ _._

Regina kicks a pile of... something before regretting it, staining her favourite pair of patent black stilettos. 

If she was to be found guilty, Regina would be damned if she'd attend 'court' looking like a piece of shit gum stuck to the bottom of Snow White’s lowly, butch DM's. 

Having exercised such exquisite control over _her_ town, no _Kingdom_ _,_ of Storybrooke, Regina was _utterly_ disorientated by the rapid turn of events that led up to her being thrown into a cell in Sheriff Swan's office. 

One day, Regina was strutting around Storybrooke without a care in the world. The next, her 11-year-old son is staring at her through the cell bars with disappointment and apathy swirling in his eyes. 

_Henry..._ _I’m so sorry..._

_That_ _poisoned apple turnover_ _wasn’t meant... T_ _hat idiot_ _Sheriff_ _Swan!_

This hurts Regina more than her enforced imprisonment, more than her loss of control, power and freedom. The fact she's inadvertently harmed her own child. The fact she’s lost _her_ Henry to Snow White's spawn, his natural mother, no less. _And_ said Sheriff Spawn is the supposed _Saviour_ , breaking her curse with true loves kiss. 

_True loves kiss!_

‘That _idiot!’_ Regina barks, realising Snow White, along with her hellish spawn, has _ruined_ her life for a third time. 

The first time is almost too painful to recall without her entire body threatening to splinter. 

The second time is so abhorrent Regina winces, nauseated, as she remembers how an insanely _righteous_ King, forty years her senior, violated her on their wedding night. He defiled her repeatedly following their barely legal wedding day, their even less legal wedding night. Regina was 17, King Leopold 61. The very thought makes her throat constrict as she swallows thickly to force the bile and vomit back down. 

_All so Snow White could have a mother figure. All so she could have me..._ _R_ _ighteous_ _,_ _compassionate_ _,_ _loving_ _..._ Words constantly used to describe the late King Leopold and his equally insufferable daughter. Probably her even more infuriating daughter too. But Regina wouldn’t know, suddenly achingly grateful to be locked away from... 

_What if no one knows I’m here?_ The question abruptly interrupts Regina’s thoughts. As swiftly, the fallen queen chuckles to herself. _No_ _bother_ _, I have my magic..._

With this warming reminder, Regina flicks her wrist towards the door, expecting it to click open within seconds. 

It doesn’t. 

Regina tries again, furrowing her brow as the door remains stubbornly locked shut. 

Nothing. 

_No_ _._

She opens her palm, her anxiety building when her hand remains cold and empty, the commanded fireball nowhere in sight. 

Regina closes her eyes a moment, wondering whether her cell is enchanted, which would explain her solitary confinement. She shakes her head, refusing to believe her one safety net, her _only_ friend is unconjurable. 

_Come on, Regina. You can do this._

Regina stares at the candle, calmly trying to use its warmth to aid her own. 

Still nothing. 

The petite brunette stares at her hand, attempting an array of different spells whilst flicking her wrist repeatedly; her frustration and anxiety becoming ever more pronounced with each crushing failure. 

_No!_

Regina squats, leaning on her haunches, _desperately_ hoping a change in height may somehow afford her back her magic. 

A soul-destroying thought eventually strikes her. She wrenches at her pant suit sleeves, hoping... 

_Hope?_ A foreign notion for the Evil Queen. Her hope was repeatedly broken by her abusive mother, the repugnant Leopold, the impish Rumpelstiltskin and one, to this day, unpunished Snow White. 

_Even the curse didn’t_ _fa_ _ze the_ _round-faced_ _brat._

Regina continues tearing at her sleeves frantically... 

An acidic taste violates her mouth at the mere thought of hope. _I don’t need hope. Hopes for_ _pathetic vermin_ _like_ _..._

It vanishes in an instant, the tell-tale cuff on her left wrist diminishing any... possible notion of escape and vengeance. 

_Vengeance,_ the one need keeping Regina’s blackened heart alive. 

_Vengeance..._ _There has to be a..._

She begins feeling around her cell like a non-magical commoner, swallowing her pride in favour of escape, in favour of vengeance. 

Days pass. 

Regina has explored her 6x5 cell hundreds of times. Her inability to find one weakness, one fragility, infuriatingly frustrating. 

The candle burnt out some time ago, the fallen queen so focused on her task, she didn’t immediately notice the pitch blackness until her eyes began to strain. 

She eventually sits in the corner furthest away from _that_ dirt, huffing as her exhausted body makes contact with the cold cobbles of her cell floor. 

_Five_ _minutes..._ Regina allows, loathing weakness in anyone, most of all in herself. _Just five_ _minutes..._

Most mere mortals would have given themselves a rest two days sooner. 

Two days. This is how long it took Regina to afford herself five minutes. Two days of increasingly desperate exploration of her cell and her non-existent magic, to no avail. 

Regina wakes to an overwhelmingly sandpaper dry mouth. Her chest abruptly heaves in complaint, her eyes watering profusely as she struggles to inhale adequate oxygen around a tongue that’s doubled in size. 

Eventually, after crawling on her hands and knees to the slop hatch at the bottom of the cell door, a draft provides her slightly less stagnant air; the window too impossibly high to consider. 

As Regina inhales shuddering breaths, her lungs on fire with need, her cell door is aggressively wrenched open, its hinges protesting with a deafening screech. 

‘Well, well, well. That’s a sight I ne'er did see,’ chortles a huge beast of a man filling the entire doorway. 

Regina slowly runs her gaze up the length of the man, her features disdainful at best. 

Even whilst on her hands and knees, after two days without ‘food’ or water, the once Evil Queen still manages to portray an air of haughty elegance, defiance and dignity. 

If this prisoner wasn’t the devil herself, the beast of a man may have found the woman attractive, even beautiful, even in those strangle garments she's robed in. 

When the fallen queen makes a choking motion with her hand, futilely attempting to throttle him, the man laughs heartily realising this prisoner may give him and his friends quite the entertainment over the next few centuries. 

Never has he, they, been gifted with such a tasty and deserving morsel as this. 

The man kicks Regina’s hand aside before stamping on it forcefully, keeping his weighted boot pressing into it as he feeds on the pain that inevitably erupts across her pretty features. 

_No not pretty._ _She's_ _really_ _somethin'_ _._ the man admits as he feels himself harden. He’d always fantasied about deflowering a queen. Truth be told, _this_ queen. 

‘Well, now, lady...’ 

‘It's Your Majesty, you uncouth imp!’ Regina barks explosively as the man leans his entire weight into the foot crushing her hand. A pathetic whimper tears from her throat. 

‘Don’t know if ya have a leg, nah, a hand ta stand on, lady,’ he jokes, laughing at his own wit as Regina bites her lip to silence further cries of agony, her humiliation at giving the bastard cretin _this_ much, almost too much to bear. The beast lowers himself until he’s eye to eye with the fallen queen. ‘Listen good, lady!’ he warns, his rancid breath washing over her face. It takes everything for Regina not to recoil in disgust. She knows to give an animal like this an inch will lead to a mile. ‘You ain’t _shit_ down ‘ere. You ain’t _nothing_ but ma prisoner, ma slave, ma toy.’ A repulsive shiver travels the length of her body, clearly discerning the arousal in his tone. ‘Ya ain’t got _no_ say, _no_ magic, _no_ power,’ he chuckles disgustingly as he leers at her, his eyes raking over her strangely clad body. ‘And with King and Queen Lovesick _fuck_ knows where, obviously winnin' if they got you, there’s nought to stop me doing what I wan’.’ 

Regina meets his stare, being _the_ master of power dynamics herself. Whoever looks away first will lose this mini battle. 

_Don_ _’_ _t look away..._ she warns herself, as her hand numbs under the weight of this imbecile. ‘They’re coming back. They’ve succeeded in their mission so they’re on their way back here...’ Regina states assertively, trying not to wince as the bastard grinds her hand into the floor. 

‘Wanna know how long I been down ‘ere? Doing this?’ he taunts her, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘I been down ‘ere more centuries than ya been alive, lady. And ne'er have I saw them in person. Not got the stomach for what I do down ‘ere,’ the beast drawls, confirming what the fallen queen knew all along. The idiot Uncharmings _did_ lock prisoners away in the recesses of their castle, leaving them to rot under the watchful eye and abusive hand of this such animal. ‘Then this beautiful lil morsel just happened ta fall into _this_ cell, saved for... Well, you just, ya deserve to be ‘ere more than anyone,’ he says evasively as his right hand comes up to Regina’s face. He internally admires the fact she doesn’t flinch as he brutally grabs her face between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Ya wanna know ‘ow long I waited for someone to fall in ‘ere? See the candle turn on? Open that...’ He gestures to the door. ‘Only ta find lil ole you, the Evil Queen turned fallen queen ‘erself?’ he smiles a disgusting leer, his eyes hungrily scanning her features. ‘Hmm...?’ The man squeezes Regina's face painfully, his fingers digging into her pressure points to force her jaw open. ‘And lookie ‘ere at these teeth. Perfect smile, I imagine,’ he rasps, his penis twitching at the thought of having her, the _queen_ , the _fucking_ Evil Queen. ‘Christmas come early, sweet cheeks,’ the beast bestows a pet name on his new toy, the best present he's ever received from King and Queen Lovesick, earning him a glare from Regina. 

‘Get _off_ me, you giant oaf!” she roars as soon as he lessens his agonising grip on her jaw. 

‘And I’m gonna play with ya...’ the man promises with every last drop of come he's ever spilt in his life; leaning forward to smell her hair. ‘Oh my God, you smell like apples!’ he exclaims, momentarily distracted by the sheer beauty of her essence, pulling a struggling Regina towards him so he can nuzzle her hair. 

‘Get...!’ 

The beast starts molesting Regina’s breast over her pantsuit, causing her to fight against his grip in earnest. Her heart flounders when she realises, without her magic, she’s no match for him. 

_No!_ _Get off me!_

After several minutes of skin crawling proximity, he pulls back. ‘Only right considering KQLS dropped ya in the ‘whate’er goes’ cell,’ he mumbles, as she claws at him in vain. ‘I do love a lil fighter,’ the man chuckles, using his enormous body to force Regina back into her cell, slamming the door shut behind them. 


	2. Discovery/Ravaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Henry return to Storybrooke.  
> Regina is at the mercy of the beast.
> 
> Huge trigger warning for graphic rape description.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kudos and comments, you got me writing again.
> 
> Also, I would like to stess, Graham never happened in this fic. Regina murders yes, rapes no.

Storybrooke

Emma’s surprised by her own eagerness to return to the tiny, back end town in Maine; her foot pressing down on the gas as hard as she dare without being stopped by the cops. 

Years of stealing cars and driving only 6kph over the speed limit taught her this. _Not worth a cop’s time..._

If Emma’s honest with herself, her eagerness has little to do with reconnecting with her newly discovered parents, Snow White and Prince Charming. Even with the curse broken, and Emma now knowing who she is, her purpose... 

_A frickin Savour... The frickin Savour!_ Emma shakes her head silently at the preposterousness of it all. _Snow white... and Prince Charming!_

Growing up in the system, Emma learnt very early on that life is _anything_ but a fairy tale. So, to find this all out in a matter of seconds, after kissing Henry on the head and breaking the curse with true loves kiss, is nothing short of emotionally scaring. Emma's still dazed by the fuckery that’s abruptly descended into her life, hence this trip away from everything besides her non fairy tale flesh and blood, her kid. 

_Regina... Madam Mayor... the Evil Queen..._

Emma tightens her grip on the steering wheel until her knuckles whiten. 

_What’s next? I find out Grumpy used to be called Dreamy and Mr Gold's... Rumplestiltskin’s somehow related to Henry?!_

Emma shakes her head at the epic ridiculousness of her life and everyone in it. 

In truth, Emma suggested this trip to Henry as much to escape the cloying aura that positively exudes from her effusive parents, as distancing themselves from the murderous intent of Regina ‘Evil Queen’ Mills. 

_Regina Mills, Madam Mayor, The Evil Queen..._

Only when Henry yells ‘Stop!’ does Emma realise she’s running a red light. The blonde slams on the breaks, forcing her rickety bug to a jarring halt in the middle of the box junction. 

‘You okay, kid?’ she asks breathlessly, immediately checking him for signs of injury. 

‘I’m good, mom. Jezz!’ Henry tries to swat her hand away as she mothers him. ‘Don't say you saved me to kill me yourself!’ he jokes. Emma’s smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes as she runs a hand through his hair affectionately. 

‘Alright, wise guy!’ she allows, smirking slightly when Henry gestures for her to unblock the junction. 

Emma eventually restarts the car after several failed revs, flipping an impatient, honking woman the bird. 

_My kids almost died twice in the last 10 days. You can wait five seconds lady._

It’s telling when Storybrooke's Sheriff would rather check in on her prisoner than head to her frankly overbearing parents. Emma groans at the thought of being on the receiving end of their fussing... 

_Wait.._ _._ she interrupts her internal ramblings, remembering how she did just _exactly_ that with Henry. _O_ _h shit!_ she surmises glumly as this uncomfortable symmetry settles in her battered and bruised psyche. 

Emma drops Henry off at Granny's, for a free hot chocolate courtesy of Ruby, so she can go check up on Madam _Evil_ Mayor. 

_For security reasons of course..._ Emma tells herself. 

But when she enters the Sheriff’s office and finds Regina’s cell empty, Emma’s surprised to note her initial feeling is disappointment, only belatedly followed by anger, concern and the slightest hint of fear. 

* * *

Fairy Tale Land

The beast traps Regina between his girth and the back wall, his bear paw vice like against her jaw as his eyes feast on her devilish perfection; his other hand continuing to maul her left breast. 

He violently tugs her face from side to side, surveying her like a rare diamond. ‘This won’t take long,’ he mutters sickeningly as he abruptly tears her pantsuit from her body. 

_‘_ _Stop!_ _Don’t touch me,_ you _mindless_ _cretin!’_ Regina orders forcefully, her voice conveying none of her internal turmoil as this hellion, this lowly, disease ridden animal dares try to rape her. 

Regina claws at his eyes, his throat, his enormous and vulgar mitts, eliciting a satisfying roar as her nail grazes his eyeball; the man’s breath curdling her lungs as she fights for the girl she once was, for the woman she would have been, if only evil hadn’t shattered every last glimmer of light glowing in her broken soul. 

The beast grabs her head and brutally rams it in to the wall, concussing her sufficiently to halt any further disobedience, growing tired of her spirit. 

He was _too_ hungry, _t_ _oo_ _desperate_ to fuck her, to have his eyes clawed out to get it. 

Regina’s vision upends; her next conscious thought, lying on the disgusting cobbled floor, the man loaming above her. 

He steps back slightly, to gain a better view of the half conscious, half naked fallen queen pooled at his feet; her panties and a strange, wiry silk contraption cover her breasts, beautifully accentuating clean, lush olive curves. 

_Fucking 'e_ _ll!_

She lifts her arms in a futile attempt at self-defence as he suddenly jumps on top of her, winding then suffocating her under his monstrous weight, his hands roaming, clawing and tearing at her body like a man possessed; Regina’s mind silently screaming in utter horror at her inability to stop this, to _stop_ him. 

She bites down hard on her lip, making herself bleed in her efforts to silence the begging, pleading whimpers threatening to tear from her throat as he rips her bra in half and disposes of her panties as effortlessly as tissue paper. 

When the last scrap of dignity is torn from her body, Regina realises with excruciating clarity that she is powerless under this man, utterly, pathetically powerless. 

Regina closes her eyes, willing herself to shut down, to ‘disassociate’ the cricket once called it, as the stark reality of her vulnerability threatens to consume her; her heart ricocheting, her lungs collapsing and her mind screaming as images of Leopold on top of her, touching her, inside of her, drown her in endless waves of sheer torment and despair. 

‘Open your eyes, sweet cheeks,’ the beast demands, pinching her clit brutally to force her acquiescence when his words alone don’t work. ‘I wanna... see your... face as I come in you,’ he husks grotesquely, as she feels the familiar fumbling’s of crotch buttons between their bodies. The overwhelming urge to shut her eyes, once more, nearly shatters her as continued imagines and muscle memories of Leopold’s repeated assaults swamp her nervous system. 

_Don't give up! Fight him! Fight him_ _damn you!_ Regina’s fragile psyche screams at her. 

She takes the one chance open to her, swiftly raising her knee, hoping and praying it lands in the vicinity of his disgusting... 

Her heart rate drops to a whisper when she realises the ridiculousness of her effort, her knee barely making a dent on his beer belly. The beasts laugh rumbles through the cell as he presses his full weight onto her, slowly suffocating her. 

Regina can only glare at him, her eyes spitting unrivalled venom. The man can't help himself, his fist abruptly twisting in her hair, forcing her head back as his mouth crashes down on hers, engulfing much of her lower face with such ravenous urgency, it steals away their breath; their arousal/disgust at opposing ends of the predator/victim spectrum. 

Regina gags at the overwhelmingly _foul_ taste and sensation of him violating her mouth. Her repulsion, instead of infuriating him, seemingly eggs him on as he hurriedly reaches down between them, his mouth and tongue still ravaging her. 

Regina’s heart stops, her chest seizes, when she feels his... 

_Oh God, no!_ She snaps her eyes shut, begging her body and mind to work their magic and disembowel this beast before he tears her in two. 

Finally, the man removes his smothering mouth from her nose, lips and chin; both cell ‘mates’ inhaling several desperate breaths. 

He lines up his penis, hurriedly spreading his arousal over the head and length, before he forces himself into Regina's arid and non-consenting centre. 

‘Ohhhh,’ he moans nauseatingly, thrusting himself ever deeper into her exquisitely tight warmth. ‘Oh fuck!’ the beast gasps, stilling to halt premature ejaculation as Regina abruptly fights against him in earnest, her one thought, to finish him off before his enormous penis rips her apart. The man tightens his fist in her hair, making the fallen queen cease her efforts. A whimper of pain and hopelessness escapes her traitorous lips. 

‘If ya make me come early, no worries, sweet cheeks. I ne'er had a maiden as sweet as you be’ore,’ he chuckles with a leer, miraculously holding them both in place with his weight, strength and will power. He smiles a rotten toothed grin. ‘I’ll be hard again be’ore you say Oaf!’ he taunts her, his chest heaving as his gaze washes over her beautiful face. 

Regina gives him her most haughty glare. ‘You _can’_ _t_ break me...!’ _because I’m already broken,_ she leaves unspoken, her features remaining fierce even when she feels him twitch inside her. 

The beast leans in close, his breath stinging her nostrils. ‘I ‘ave 835 centuries to do that. We ‘ave all the time in the world, ma lady,’ he sighs, giddy at the prospect, making Regina shudder in revulsion. 

_I’m_ _having a conversation with a rotting beast of a man, who_ _’s_ _apparently_ _my_ _guard for the entirety of_ _my_ _sentence, whilst he_ _lays_ _prone,_ _inside me,_ _desperately_ _trying to control his arousal long enough to e_ _njoy raping_ _me..._ A wave of nausea crashes into her. 

They stare at each other, the beast still not trusting himself to move, Regina wondering when he will remove his fetid girth from her person to allow her to breathe again; her entire body numbing under his mountainous weight. 

The man finally blinks, exhaling the breath he’s been holding. ‘Right, think I’m good to go,’ he breathes harshly, finally trusting himself not to explode whilst only half way inside the fallen queen. 

The thought makes his penis throb on cue, his carnal hunger beyond _starving_ for Regina’s forbidden fruit. 

He tightens his grip in her hair, searching and finding her wrists before pinning them above her head, positioning her how he likes to take his women, willing or not. 

_Fucking Christ!_ His mind yells, his eyes devouring the spirited perfection of his beautiful new toy. 

The beast abruptly thrusts his full length into her, not trusting himself to last much longer as a scream of agony rebelliously escapes Regina’s mortified lips. 

He feels a sudden, unexpected lubrication, which helps him force his current weapon of choice even deeper into her. 

The man grins salaciously over his stunning fallen queen, never before having taken a maiden with such a gloriously tight cunt, such breath-takingly jarring beauty, given the sheer ugliness of her crimes. 

_‘Fuck!’_ he bellows, again admiring Regina when she doesn’t flinch. The beast eventually begins thrusting into her, his pace rabid in his haste to reach a quarter century awaited climax. 

Regina determinedly maintains her fiercely spirited expression, even though every part of her wants to scream, to fight, to escape, to explode in a litany of hells fire at this total violation of her body. 

_You may take this body, this time. But you w_ _on’t_ _have_ _me. You wo_ _n’t_ _ever own_ _my mind_ _, heart or_ _soul!_

The beast continues to piston into the fallen queen, his mouth dominating hers once more. His hands tighten their grip on her hair and wrists as his rutting body quivers, trembles and jolts, signally he's nearing his eagerly awaited orgasm. 

Regina clenches her fingers, the only body part she can currently move, though they are rapidly numbing under her rapist’s unrelenting grip. 

His thrusts become so excruciatingly fevered, her entire body jerks with each ravenous buck of his hips. 

The beast withdraws his sucker lips from her face, his sweat dripping over her recoiling flesh; staring into her big, bottomless orbs as he furiously takes her, his rabid rhythm stuttering as he edges closer to devastating release. 

Regina clenches her eyes shut, damned if she'll watch this animal orgasm as he drawls over her face. 

‘Open... ya eyes... ma... lady,’ he orders, his voice hitching and ragged. 

_No!_ Regina’s mind retorts, utterly refusing to lose every part of herself to him. 

‘Open... ya... eyes or I’ll get... my... friends in... ‘ere to... do... it... for ya!’ he threatens breathlessly as Regina winces in torment. ‘Dean!’ he calls, when the fallen queen doesn’t heed him. 

‘No!’ Regina opens her eyes instantly, her heart falling when she hears the cell door open and another giant fill the entrance way, his eyes hungrily drinking in the sight in front of him. She whips her head away to face the wall, a groan bursting from her lips as the beast uses the fist in her hair to forcibly wrench her gaze back to his. 

‘Look... at... me...’ he demands, his entire body trembling, his sexual need his only focus as finally, inevitably, an orgasm the likes of which he's never experienced tears through him with such earth-shattering force, the beast collapses on top of Regina; his softening penis still spilling seed into her non-consenting uterus. 


	3. Searching/Realisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma begins her search.  
> Regina gets another (surprise) visitor or two.
> 
> Warning for post rape impact and ongoing threats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos and comments. They mean so much!

Emma decides to bypass Granny's to avoid worrying Henry unduly, until she finds out what the hell’s been going on since they left Storybrooke. 

Having entrusted the Sheriff’s Office to David... _Prince Charming... whoever he identifies as now_ _..._ in her absence, Emma ducks her head against the sudden wind and makes a beeline for Mary Margaret’s... _S_ _no_ _w’s_ loft apartment; her hopes of several hours’ peace before her intense parents realise their daughter and grandson are back in town, in tatters. 

The blonde takes the stairs two at a time. She raps her knuckles against the wood forcefully, having little patience for sweetness and light right now. 

When the door remains unanswered, Emma tries the handle; her bail bondswoman days revealing just how often people ‘forget’ to secure their homes. The catch releases, stunning the blonde more than she cares to admit. 

_With Regina on the run, surely no one would be more security conscious than Snow_ _,_ _right_ _?_

Emma quickly searches the apartment, not altogether surprised to find it empty. 

_Where the hell_ _are_ _they?_

She scratches her head, then races back through the door, down the stairs and out onto the street. 

Emma hadn’t noticed it when she hurried to Snow's loft. But as she half jogs back to Granny's, to Ruby in particular, the blonde side eyes the residence walking by her without a hint of welcome or acknowledgement. 

_What the...?_

Emma purposely walks straight into Dr Hopper’s path, only for the generally friendly therapist to side-step her without a second glance, a grave expression on his face. 

Emma watches him pass by, his stride swift, his gaze avoidant; Pongo similarly subdued by his side. 

She texts Ruby from the corner behind Granny’s, not wanting to spook the kid just yet. 

_Emma: Hey Rubes_ _._ _Meet me outside back in two?_

_Ruby:_ _Okay,_ comes her friends less than enthusiastic reply. 

If there’s one thing the blonde can determine, it’s that Storybrooke has either been re-cursed by an enraged Regina in the time she and Henry have been gone, or some equally disturbing shit has gone down that’s made everyone weary or missing. 

_Regina, Snow, David..._ Emma’s current, and growing, list of missing persons. 

Ruby eventually makes it outside. When Emma dropped Henry off 20 minutes earlier, she’d been too wrapped up in her... _need, want, excitement..._ _Jesus Emma!_ she self-chastises, disgusted with herself. _T_ _o see... correction, to check in_ _on_ _Regina, the murderous_ _Madam Mayor_ _who almost killed my son,_ _who_ _actively tried to kill me_ _,_ the blonde reminds herself. Too wrapped up in thoughts of dark, smouldering eyes, tailored pant suits and perfectly coiffed hair to notice that Ruby, too, was avoiding her gaze. 

‘Rubes,’ she begins, her tone serious and searching. Ruby lowers her head still further at Emma's inflection. ‘Regina’s not in her cell, my... Snow and David are missing and has everyone forgotten I broke the curse two weeks ago because now they’re all avoiding me?’ Emma rattles off, too unnerved for pleasantries and bullshit. ‘What’s going on?’ 

The willowy brunette bites her lip, looking at the ground between their feet. ‘We’re all just trying to get used to being _us_ again, you know. And we’re wondering why we weren’t immediately ported back to the Enchanted Forrest when the curse broke,’ Ruby explains solemnly. ‘It’s a lot to take in Emma,’ she adds, gaining enough confidence to finally meet the blonde’s inquisitive gaze. 

If only Emma didn’t possess the ability to read people, Ruby's half-lies would have been enough. Unfortunately for them both, the Saviour can read her Werewolf friend better than anyone. 

‘Sure, but that doesn’t explain where Snow, David and Reg...’ the blonde gives Ruby the chance to hang herself. 

‘I’ve been on shift all day, Emma. How am I supposed to know where they are?’ she feigns ignorance _atrociously_ , her wide eyes speaking louder than her rehearsed words. 

‘Ruby,’ Emma spears her with a challenging gaze. ‘You and Archie are the only two people I trust to give me a straight answer, but one of you is lying to me and the other won’t even acknowledge me. Why?’ she asks, her tone incredulous and bordering on insulted. 

‘Ruby!’ Granny shrieks from the side door. ‘The diner won’t serve itself!’ 

The relief on the brunettes open features is palatable as she side-steps Emma and retreats back to the safety of Granny's with only a small, sad smile of apology in passing. 

* * *

Regina lays where the beast left her, hollowed out and copiously filled with his seed. 

Moving is impossible, covering herself is out of the question; her naked body prone, broken and utterly violated. 

Even breathing hurts. 

The fallen queen stares up at the ceiling, thankful for the oxygen that passes somewhat more freely through her lungs as she wonders how she can escape this living hell. 

Being a serial killer and mass murderer, Regina realises she’s deserving of punishment. But for the allegedly pure, kind and gracious Snow White to imprison her in a cell with _no_ boundaries, where _sick_ giants can abuse her in _any_ means they see fit without retribution, is shocking. _E_ _ven_ for the woman Regina knows is anything but virginal white. 

_Snow White sacrificed_ _Maleficent's_ _only daughter for_ _Miss Swan,_ _her Emma, her Saviour,_ _for one..._

_Is_ _it surprising_ _she_ _would sentence_ _me_ _to_ _a lifetime of_ _brutality_ _,_ _considering_ _this was the very_ _same fate_ _I..._

Regina shakes her head and inhales a shuddering breath, to stem these nauseating thoughts. She focuses instead on mindfulness, a technique the cricket suggested whenever her body... 

_Stop!_ She commands herself furiously, wary, _terrified_ of falling into the encroaching darkness with every opening of her mind’s eye. 

Regina inhales harshly as she wiggles her toes, letting the sensation warm her aching joints. She then braves circling her ankles, eternally grateful no pain materialises, meaning she can still stand, still run... no, still _fight_. Next, the brunette bends her knees. The slight pull sends splinters of shooting pain rioting through her centre. Regina winces in agony, gritting her teeth as she focuses solely on breathing through each spasm. 

The beast raped her, he brutalised her. However, Regina was ridiculously grateful when he awoke from his orgasmic coma before he suffocated or crushed her. She was equally thankful when he warned Dean off her, stating she was his for a while longer before he’d think of sharing her. 

_A p_ _ossessive rapist_ _i_ _s nothing new._ _The thought of being shared_ _,_ _gang-raped_ _,_ _i_ _s_ _utterly_ _terrifying_ _!_

The probability of being raped again so soon, by a similarly monstrous beast, would have killed her. Regina is certain of it. 

So here she lays, crumpled, pathetic, weak and broken on the disgusting, rat infested floor of this _God forsaken_ hole. 

And yet, within her the spirited flame sparks with such scorching intensity, Regina realises the darkness won’t engulf her as quickly as she feared, after 28 years vegetating as Mayor of Storybrooke. 

_The Queen is still here_ _, in me; strong_ _,_ _fierce_ _and fighting..._ she reassures herself, feeling her heartbeat slow under her right palm. 

A sudden pop makes Regina flinch in alarm; anxiety flooding her at the thought of the beast coming back for a second feast. 

She scuttles to the corner of the cell, biting her lip through the pain as her entire body revolts at her sudden movements. 

Regina eyes the door with fearful yet blinding rage; as its suddenly, forcefully, wrenched open by two maddeningly familiar faces. 

Snow White and UnCharming stand in the doorway to her cell, gawking at her like she’s a grotesque, zoo exhibit left only for the hardiest of visitors at the end of the day. 

Regina abruptly remembers she’s naked; infuriated with herself when her cheeks blush crimson with mortifying embarrassment. She looks down at her body, surprised to find the same grey pantsuit that was torn from her less than 30 minutes before, clothing her frame. 

The fierce brunette snaps her head back up to face her biggest adversary, the person behind _all_ her torment... _most_ of her torment. 

Regina tries to stand, _damned_ if she’ll allow these narcissistic idiots to lean over her and gawk. Abrupt pain surges through her entire nervous system. 

_Go_ _d_ _damnit_ _! Clothes but_ _not healed!_

Regina bites her tongue, willing her muscles to quieten long enough for her to stand, without conveying the pain she’s experiencing. 

_Fierce pride,_ _elegance_ _and_ _poise_ _: a_ _true_ _Q_ _ueen..._ she breaths as she eventually straightens, the two idiots seemingly enjoying her agony. 

When brown eyes meet green and blue, it’s UnCharming’s expression that takes her by surprise. His eyes convey something akin to shock as he stares at her wrists. 

Regina immediately looks down, noticing the tell-tale redness and bruising where the oaf had restrained her. She returns her fierce gaze to theirs, not wishing them to see her vulnerability. 

‘What do you hypocritical idiots want?’ she drawls haughtily. 

Snow frowns at the slur to her ‘good’ name. ‘We are just checking in on the _fallen_ queen, to ensure your accommodation is as uncomfortable as possible.’ 

‘Well, as you can see, I have my own space, with a window, a candle and some furry friends to keep me company,’ Regina volleys back, her tone dripping with sarcastic condemnation. ‘A step up from my own dungeons, wouldn’t you say?’ 

The brunette delights in the slight shake of Snows bristling shoulders. 

_Every win..._

‘We may have to do something about that,’ the spoilt brat whispers to her lap dog snidely. Then she lands her smug gaze on Regina. ‘How are you finding the guards?’ Snow asks, her question weighted, sickening. 

_You know_ _..._ _You_ _ordered it...?_

Unbridled rage erupts from Regina’s soul as she notes the flash of satisfaction burning in Snows calculated green orbs. It takes _everything_ or Regina not to launch herself at the twisted little urchin. 

‘They’ve been down here a long time, without anyone to amuse them,’ she adds, leaving no doubt in Regina’s mind that the hypocritical heathen knows exactly what she’s being subjected to. 

Regina maintains her composure, her posture haughty, elegant and unwavering, her features set, unaffected. Yet her eyes blaze with unshed fury. 

‘Mary M... Snow, let’s say what we need to...’ UnCharming suggests quietly, obviously not as enamoured by the idea of championing the rape of any woman, _even_ the Evil Queen. 

‘Okay,’ his life partner obliges, morosely, her gloating cut unceremoniously short. 

_You sick,_ _self_ _-righteous l_ _ittle bitch_ _!_ Regina mind roars as she prays her legs will hold her body weight until they eventually decide to take their smug faces and leave. 

Snow steps inside Regina's cell; the brunette bristling at this, at her private space being invaded by such malicious idiocy. 

Regina eyes her with seething hate as Snow stops right in front of her, her lap dog by her side. The brunette swallows thickly to silence her innately vicious barbs; her chest and quietly seething gaze, the only indicators of her internal struggle to control her urge to throttle them to death with her bare hands. 

As though reading this, UnCharming unsheathes his sword and steps forward, holding it at Regina's throat. 

Snow grins a sickly-sweet smile as she drinks in the chaos behind Regina’s eyes. ‘You’re going to be receiving some visitors, who’ve got only _one_ thing on their minds: vengeance.’ She flutters her eye lashes, feigning innocence as she giggles, _actually_ giggles at Regina’s purposefully stoic and measured features. ‘Storybrookes town folk have waited _years_ for this, and what better way to feed their love than give them what they want and deserve: a shot with the Evil Queen,’ Snow laughs despite herself, her obvious glee at this notion nauseating. ‘I assume the guards have told you what this particular cell is called?’ She doesn’t wait for Regina to reply, her excitement too overpowering to subdue. ‘The ‘Whatever Goes Cell," Snow states with stomach churning delight, as Regina wonders, not for the first time, who the _real_ psycho is. ‘The one absolute: you’re immortal here. So no matter how heinous your punishments, you will _not_ escape your _deserved_ torment,’ Snow explains happily, her face near splitting with glee. ‘And everyone _deserves_ their moment of Catharsis, with a murderess as _evil_ as you!’ 

‘Finally, it seems the psychopathic idiot has finished,’ Regina snarls back, her voice successfully conveying her complete lack of interest in anything Snow just said. ‘Your idol threats and demonic smile hold no flame to what I’ll do to you once I get out of here,’ she promises, her voice calm yet loaded with venom. 

The little urchin has the gaol to laugh, her annoyingly, squeaky clean, white teeth hiding the rotten centre of their owner. ‘You keep thinking that. It may feed your spirit for a while, but you will break. And when you do, I’ll be right here, watching,’ Snow whispers confidently in Regina's ear before stepping back. ‘You will pay for what you did to Henry, what you tried to do to Emma, what you did to my father, and to my people!’ 

_Henry..._

‘Think what you will Snow White,’ Regina retorts, having learnt many years ago, how blind, selfish and spoilt this little Princess truly was... is. ‘But I _never_ meant to hurt Henry. I love him. I knew your... _offspring_ was going to take my son. I just wanted to _win_... for once,’ she finishes, hating herself as her voice cracks on the last sentence. 

Snow smirks as UnCharming leans into his sword at Regina’s throat. ‘Strange way of showing your love, Regina,’ he counters. ‘And look where trying to win got you,’ he gestures to the dank cell around them. ‘You will pay for what you’ve done, and it starts now,’ he promises, his eyes re-migrating to her bruised wrists as Snow throws a magic bean into the corner of the cell. 

A portal appears; only UnCharmings sword preventing Regina from taking her chances and jumping into the bottomless vortex. 

A small pop sounds before a familiar face appears beside them. 

_No..._

‘Have fun Regina,’ Snow jokes devilishly, as she and her lap dog step into the vortex, leaving Regina at the mercy of the town pervert, Dr Handsy Whale.


	4. Frustrations/Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma grows more frustrated.  
> Regina grows ever more fearful.
> 
> Warning for graphic rape description.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all your kudos and comments!!! Please keep 'em coming!

Emma angrily stalks to Archie’s therapy room, her nerves fraying with every passing second. 

_So far, the only person who appears any kind of_ _normal,_ _well maybe not his normal, is Leroy_ _;_ _a big smile and an enthusiastic_ _greeting_ _aimed at me, when_ _we passed each other on the sidewalk outside Granny's._

Emma knocks on the door then bursts in when no answer's forthcoming, not caring if the doctors in session. 

_This is too_ _fecking_ _important!_

Archie looks up from his desk, his shocked expression telling of his hope Emma wouldn’t try the door after no answer. 

‘Emma,’ he says, standing before she has the chance to sit down and become comfortable. 

‘Archie, where’s Regina?’ the Saviour asks, getting straight to the point. It doesn’t escape her, or the perceptive Dr Hoppers, notice that she requests the Mayor’s whereabouts first. 

He lowers his gaze and grits his teeth, a very serious expression for a normally happy man. 

‘Archie, if you can’t tell me, who the _hell_ will?’ Emma asks, before thinking that’s the stupidest thing she’s ever said to an ethically minded therapist. 

‘Now Emma, you know I can’t...’ 

‘Is she a client of yours? As I can’t see any other reason why you’d hide behind confidentiality, Archie,’ she challenges astutely, raising her chin to deepen her point. 

‘Okay,’ he relents, lifting his hands in surrender. ‘Ask your parents,’ is all he says, leaving Emma more confused than ever. 

She frowns at him in surprise. ‘Well they’re nowhere to be seen, Archie! I _can't_ find them, and what would they know of Regina's... Is Storybrooke in danger? Or... do my parents know where Regina is?’ Emma hits him with several queries at once, as potential explanations form in her mind. 

Archie’s body language screams of his discomfort; his hands fisted, his back hunched, his lips thin and his eyes downcast. 

After what feels like hours, Dr Hopper finally looks directly at Emma, his conflict so painfully obvious, she wants to shake it out of him. 

‘Asks your parents Emma, and no, Storybrooke is safe.’ 

A cold shiver travels the length of her body, sensing the brutal honesty of his words. 

‘And how the _fuck_ is Storybrooke safe if Regina _isn’t_ in her cell?’ The Saviour near yells, her frustration and anxiety spiralling with each teasing truth Archie imparts. 

He doesn’t reply. 

‘Are my p... are David and Snow safe?’ Emma eventually asks, Dr Hopper’s eyebrows lifting in response to her belated question. 

‘Yes, they’re safe Emma. Don’t worry,’ he tries, wincing as soon as he realises he’s poked the beast, not doused the fire like he intended. 

Emma approaches him, only stopping when her legs make contact with the other side of his desk. ' _Don’t worry?’_ she parrots, sarcastically. ‘The _whereabout_ of the _deadliest_ monarch in FTL is currently _unknown_ ,’ Emma stresses the last word, certain Archie knows far more than he's letting on. 

‘That’s actually fallacy. Regina wasn’t the deadliest...’ comes Dr Hopper’s bizarre character promotion. 

Emma just looks at him, so utterly confused by the man. 

_What the...?_

‘My parents are missing...’ she waits a beat, hoping Archie will fill in the blanks. He doesn’t. 

_For fucks sake!_

‘How do you know they’re safe? And Storybrooke's safe?’ 

‘I... I can’t tell you,’ he utters, his chin fusing to his chest. 

‘What _can_ you tell me?!’ Emma tries a different tact. 

‘Talk to your parents as soon as they’re back...’ 

‘From where?’ Emma interrupts him, hoping to dislodge him from the hiding place he’s currently residing in. 

Archie audibly signs as his body sags with exhaustion. He runs a hand through his thinning hair, keeping his grip on the red tuffs. 

Emma waits him out, hoping he’ll crumble under the weight of his conscience. 

He doesn’t. 

‘Is she alive?’ 

Archie nods his head slowly, relieved to be able to answer a more positive question; utterly unaware of Emma’s next challenge, her eagle eyes focused on her prey. 

‘And how do you know that?’ 

He squirms at being blindsided so expertly, lowering his hand and glancing in the Saviour’s direction with something akin to agitated respect. 

* * *

Regina’s skin crawls as she glares at the pervert doctor, knowing _exactly_ what he’ll do to her. Having stared rape in the face more times than she could ever recall, it _never_ gets easier. _E_ _ver._

Her legs begin to shake under the strain of her anxiety, her non-injured hand gripping the stone wall for dear life, whilst she desperately tries to hide her fear of him. 

‘Well _Madam Mayor,_ my how the _mighty_ have fallen,’ Whale sneers, taking a step forward before stopping to admire the slight slip in her magnificently proud façade at his approach. ‘You know,’ he begins, pacing Regina's cell, feigning deep thought when they both know he only has the emotional range of anger and lust. ‘I’ve waited for this day for over 28 years and my God, am I going to _enjoy_ it!’ he promises, revoltingly. ‘I wasn’t even in the same world, let alone _realm,'_ he spits, his rage erupting spectacularly. ‘Your _sole_ purpose to curse me was to _separate_ me from my _brother!_ My brother _needed_ me!’ he snarls, closing the distance between them in seconds, pushing the entire length of his body into Regina, pinning her against the wall. 

‘You promised me you would help me. That you could help her...’ Regina grits her teeth, as much to stem the agonising memory as to escape the pain, the trauma, the anguish of her current situation. 

‘Yes,’ he smiles, his breath hot and hateful against her skin. ‘I know, but Gerhardt _deserved_ that heart. He was a military man who died by accident. Your sweetheart was a lowly stable girl. A girl! Your mother didn’t approve the union anyhow,’ he taunts coldly; his hands coming to rest on Regina’s hips, adding strength to the already repulsive jolt surging through her. He leers at her subtle discomfort. 

His suffocating weight and her emotional turmoil press into Regina’s chest as she tries and fails to gain adequate breath. Dr Whale laughs mirthlessly at Regina’s struggle as he peruses her face. 

‘I _s_ _hould_ throttle you right here and now,’ he threatens devilishly, his hands travelling from her hips, up her ribcage, stroking the sides of her breasts delicately... 

_‘Don’t!'_ _R_ egina roars as Dr Whale purposely pins her body even tighter against the wall, stifling her struggles and making breathing exponentially more difficult; his hardness pushing into her thigh.

His thumbs maintain their torturous caresses, his eyes goading her to fight him as he slowly suffocates her. ‘Are you gonna play nice, Regina?’ 

_‘Never!’_ she snarls breathlessly, the last of her oxygen used up. 

Whale laughs in her face, seemingly pleased with her answer. ‘Good, because rough is so much more fun,’ he confesses, purposely stepping back to watch her unceremonious descent to the cobble floor. 

After several sputtering breaths, Regina immediately lifts her head, her brown eyes blazing with defiance and rage. 

‘If you weren’t such a murderous cunt, I’d have _fucked_ you years ago,’ he states arrogantly, looking down at her with overt desire. 

‘There’s no way I’d have let you...’ she retorts scathingly, her eyes spitting fire where her hands cannot. 

Whale chuckles again at this, his erection throbbing with ravenous urgency. He frees himself from his pants and let’s it sway in front of her. 

Regina stares at it and laughs, laughs at the man who’ll abuse her. ‘So, it’s true what they say, men with fancy cars, dyed hair and motor mouths truly are making up for...’ 

Regina isn’t able to conclude her insult before Whale’s hands are around her neck in a vice like grip. She tears at his hands, his arms, his face, to no avail; her fight only succeeding in tightening his agonising hold still further. 

Darkness. 

Regina hears the disturbingly familiar sounds of rats scuttling by her ear, one of them bravely attempting to nibble her lobe before she sits up with such force, she bangs her head against the back wall, as agonising pain confirms the beast, or Whale, has ripped her lower body to shreds. Regina cries out in agony, shutting her eyes tightly as she attempts to breathe through her pain. 

_‘Jesus_ woman, I haven’t even _touched_ you yet,’ comes Whale’s despicable drawl from the opposite side of her dank cell. ‘Not strictly into necrophilia, more a struggle, fighter kinda guy,’ he explains grotesquely, as Regina swallows down her ready nausea. 

Whale stands from his squatted position, approaching Regina and stopping directly in front of her. ‘Now, fallen queen, I think I remember you saying something about motor mouths?’ he teases nauseatingly, watching Regina’s beautiful features pale. 

Whale palms his erection, his excitement and arousal at her revulsion telling of the true nature of the man. 

‘I’ve always wondered what it would be like to rape someone,’ he husks, rubbing himself slowly, watching every micro expression that flits across Regina’s face as he emerses himself in his fantasies. ‘To _truly_ take... someone and dominate them...’ he stutters to climax so rapidly, Regina clutches to this one small mercy. 

_At_ _l_ _east this’ll be quick_ _,_ she hopes, pleads, begs, prays as she turns away, the rest of her body rebelling against her; the thought of standing, of fighting, of _submitting_ to this man, near impossible to contemplate. 

‘I know I was the town sleaze ball... I quite liked the title,’ he smiles to himself, as he recovers from his orgasm. ‘It gave me permission to be a bit of a perv because women expected it...’ 

_Just keep talking,_ Regina thinks silently, realising Whale may not even touch her; his love for his own voice, his one true love; his penis, a close but still subservient second. 

‘It’s amazing how a label like that can help my cause, you know. A touch here, a tickle there...’ 

_On second thoughts,_ _shut_ _up!_ Regina’s mind yells as she keeps her eyes trained on him. _Never trust the pervert._ ‘You realise you got that label because of your behaviour, not because I labelled you as such?’ 

Whale chuckles, squatting down until he’s at the fallen queen’s eye level. 

_You shouldn’t have spoken, idiot!_ Regina self-chastises, swallowing thickly when he leans in to smell her neck. Her skin crawls when his nose brushes her neck column. 

‘In books, I am something of a monster maker. So why not make a monster out of me?’ he says with such brazenly perceived logic, Regina can only stare at the wall in hopes... 

_No,_ _not hope... but_ _to distract myself from what he’s doing, intending._

Whale bites her neck hard, drawing beads of blood that he hungrily laps up. 

_Oh God!_ she winces; nausea, disgust and revulsion vying for position. 

‘I tried it on with Ruby for years...’ 

_Tell me something I don’t know_ _,_ Regina’s mind retorts, but she remains silent, correctly deducing her voice drew him closer. 

‘She’s sex on legs. But she’s not actually as easy as her clothes suggest,’ he utters one of the many chauvinistic statements he’s become ‘famous' for in Storybrooke. 

_Storybrooke._ _.._ Regina's thoughts segue to Henry, to... 

‘I never quite got between her legs, but I did enjoy pinching her butt, then going home and jerking off...’ 

_My little prince... I’m so sorry..._

‘Mary Margaret was a lousy lay...’ 

This gets Regina’s attention. _Again, tell me something I don’t know, o_ r in _this_ case, surmise. 

‘But it’s you I _really_ wanted to fuck.’ He punctuates this disgusting truth by abruptly grabbing Regina’s hand and forcing it onto his member, his nose still exploring her throat. ‘Every time... I saw you... I thought to myself; _fuck._.. could this woman... _be_ any sexier... You have this sensuality... this danger... about you... makes you _fucking_... _irresistible_...’ he moans the last word, his climax taking hold within seconds; forcing her to stroke him through a frame racking orgasm. When Regina tries to withdraw her hand, he tightens his hold, making it impossible for her to escape his abuse. 

‘Oh... _Jesus!’_ he exclaims, finally starting to come down from his earth-shattering climax; his body shaking, his hips thrusting and his seed spilling onto Regina’s non-consenting hand. 

Whale leans fully into her neck, his breathing ragged as he eventually releases her hand to catch his breath. 

Regina closes her eyes, swallows hard and trembles slightly before stilling her nerves, holding her soiled hand as far away from herself as possible. 

Once Whale regains his composure, he leans back to drink in the sight of an abused Regina. His month drops in surprise, thinking his actions would have broken _at_ _least p_ art of her. 

_He_ _will_ _never know it has. Every unwanted touch does._

Instead, the fallen queen stares at him with such fierce spirit, he realises he’ll need to go a lot further to extinguish the stubborn fire burning inside Madam Mayor, Regina Mills. 

This thought excites the hell out of him as he smirks at the fight in Regina’s eyes. Whale cups her face, smearing his seed over her cheekbone and jaw as he forces her to meet his gaze. 

‘Lick me off your fingers, then I’m gonna fuck your mouth.’ 

In all the time Leopold brutalised her, he never asked for _this._ His main aim, beyond taking Regina’s deliciously youthful body, was to sire a son. Oral sex (rape) was never on the agenda. Now, facing the probability of being forced to give oral sex, for the first time, is shattering. 

When Regina doesn’t move, Whale grips her uninjured wrist and bends it back painfully. ‘Lick me off or I'll break it,’ he threatens sadistically. ‘Seems you need one working hand,’ he adds, having noticed her crush injury. 

Horror flashes across her features as he actions his threat, bending her wrist further and further back. 

_‘_ _Agh_ _!’ R_ egina screams, the pain unbearable. 

Whale’s arrogance falters slightly at the possibility the mayor would rather have her wrist broken, her hand rendered useless, than suck him off. ‘Lick me off your hand, _now!’ m_ he demands viciously, her wrist millimetres from breaking. 

_‘Stop!’ R_ egina breathes urgently, unable to stand the pain a minute longer. He smiles and nods his head eagerly. 

‘Good girl,’ he whispers, patronising her as he clamps the fingers cupping her jaw around her throat, his other hand pulling Regina’s hand to her closed mouth. ‘Lick me off,’ he husks, his voice deepening with desire as the fallen queen throws him her most disdainful glare. He chuckles in her face, his member hardening again as she opens her mouth and begins licking her own fingers. Not content with this, Whale guides Regina’s index finger into her mouth and forces her to suck it. ‘Oh yessss!’ he breathes, his words, his voice, his actions sickening. 

Once he decides she’s sufficiently cleansed, Whale stands over her, his breathing shallow and disgustingly excited. 

‘Kneel, fallen queen,’ he demands, pointing at his member unnecessarily, his need already copiously discussed. 

‘No,’ Regina snarls, damned if she’ll let him feta her mouth further. 

_I’ve tasted your disgusting seed, what more could you possibly want from me?_ She asks rhetorically, achingly aware of _e_ _xactly_ what he wants from her. 

Whale punches her directly in the face, knocking the life out of her already overwhelmed brain and abused body. He then calls two names Regina can’t make out, her ears ringing and her head splitting. 

_Oh God... no!_

The next thing Regina’s aware of is the firm and unrelenting grip of two of her guards. They roughly force her up onto her knees, holding her there as the one she belatedly recognises to be Dean, pinches her jaw until she’s forced to open her mouth, wide. 

‘Bite me and I'll do this every time I come here,’ Whale promises, reading the horror that’s manifested behind the fallen queen’s eyes at the idea of being taken orally. 

_Every time...?_ Regina groggily wonders, as he forces himself into her mouth, directly to the back of her throat, gagging her, as the two oaf’s hold her still, trapped, powerless as he rapes her. 

‘Use your lips,’ Whale instructs. Regina complies, seeing no other option, even as her forced acquiescence mortifies her. _‘God,_ your lips... _Those_ lips!’ he moans, thoroughly enjoying himself; the feel of her velvet warmth around him, sucking him in, divine. ‘The Mayors lips... Mayors lips.... Mayors lip... Mayors lip... Mayors lip, Mayors lip.... MayorslipMayorslipMayors...’ he mantras demonically, reaching then gliding from the precipice, into the most electrifyingly euphoric release he’s ever known.


	5. Game/Injuries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma bumps into Dr Whale  
> Is Regina given any time to begin healing?
> 
> Warning: non graphic rape mention. Graphic abuse injuries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do appreciate all you kudos and comments. Please keep them comin'. Can this fic get to 100 this chapter??
> 
> Also, please heed the warnings and tags. This will continue to be a bumpy ride for now.

Emma's frustration is fast becoming laced with suspicion and disbelief as everyone actively avoids telling her what the _fucks_ happened to Regina and her parents. 

The Saviour left Archie’s office empty handed, quickly deciding the mines were the next best bet. 

Leroy, the town’s mouthpiece, continued to whistle while he worked, flashing a rare and rather disconcerting smile every few minutes; his lips keeping schtum regarding their whereabouts. 

_Grumpy doesn’t so much as grin on his birthday..._ _If he won’t tell me, I don’t know what..._

At this precise moment, whilst deep in thought and stalking the main street of Storybrooke for any townsfolk to interrogate, Emma collides squarely with Dr Whale. She immediately recoils, not wanting her body in the vicinity of his, let alone touching him; so be it accidentally. 

Emma swallows thickly, taking in the sickening glee positively emanating from the town pervert; as though he's realised a lifelong ambition. 

_You_ _finally got in Ruby's_ _panties?_ The Saviour questions silently, quirking her eyebrow. 

Dr Whale and Emma evaluate each other for several beats. She tries to ignore the obvious, bodily fluid stain encrusted into his tailored pants, as vomit threatens to invade her mouth with every passing breath. 

_You know something..._ the blonde surmises within seconds; his infuriating smirk causing her to cough with distaste, _willing_ herself to converse with him. 

‘You look like you finally...’ Emma pauses briefly, waiting for her rapidly misfiring brain to engage sufficiently, so as not to ostracism him, _yet._ ‘You look like you got laid.’ 

Dr Whale snorts at this. ‘I’ll have you know I’ve had _plenty_ of conquests. But I have to admit, the last was particularly _exquisite_ ,’ he counters, his smirk driving Emma insane as a shiver runs the length of her spine. She prays the unfortunate recipient was at least consenting. ‘You s _till_ don’t know do you?’ he sneers excitedly, stepping into her personal space. 

Every fibre of her being screams at her to move away, but Emma’s stubborn will forbids her. 

_Never let a_ _perv_ _know you’re intimidated._

‘I know everything that goes on in this town,’ she lies, feigning a confidence honed in her previous career. 

Whale surveys her for a full minute; his eyes hungrily journeying from her mouth, to her neck column, to her breasts before his gaze lifts to meet her quietly blazing eyes. If Emma didn’t need to _work_ the pervert Doctor in hopes of pushing him to slip up, she would gouge his predatory eyes from his deformed skull. 

‘Yeah, right,’ he eventually utters, smiling as he shakes his head, having unnervingly read Emma expertly. Whale finally steps away, seemingly too sated from his latest endeavour to taunt the Saviour further. ‘Once your folks tell you, _enjoy_ yourself. That’s all I’ll say,’ he teases with a grotesque wink, moving to depart. 

‘Snow and David aren’t home. Have you seen...?’ Emma decides to ask the blunt question, having grown tired of Whale’s games. 

‘Perhaps try the loft again,’ he supplies, turning away and strutting down the street with a swagger worthy of John Wayne. 

* * *

Once Whale spilled his disgusting seed into Regina's unwilling mouth, Dean held it shut until she was forced to swallow the despicable contents. Following this final violation, Dr Whale cupped her jaw, feeding off the hatred, fear and disgust swimming in the fallen queens’ big brown eyes. 

Physically and sadistically sated, Whale leant, exhausted, against the cell wall before plucking a bean from his slacks and throwing it into the corner. 

Once he leaves, Regina’s soul shatteringly relieved her next ‘guest’ doesn’t immediately materialise in his place. She slumps against the wall, her entire body screaming in agony; from her potentially broken nose, her aching jaw muscles, her abused throat, her crushed hand, her speared vagina, cervix and diaphragm. 

Regina wipes her face subconsciously, blood oozing from her nose. She decides to check where the bastard hit her full in the face. Regina presses the skin either side delicately, gingerly moving her fingers closer to the rioting pain as she explores her latest injury. After several excruciating sweeps, the fallen queen realises her nose is indeed broken, making breathing in this dank and enclosed cell even more suffocating. 

At this moment, her forgotten thirst rears its head with nauseating force, causing Regina to turn her head urgently as vomit pours from her lips. The idea of swallowing, let alone swallowing anything more substantial, is more than she can bear following her oral rape. 

Typically, the door opens before her aching stomach finishes revolting against her. 

‘Ey there, lady,’ come the skin crawling tones of the beast. ‘Though' ya might fancy some wa'er,’ he bellows, entering her cell and closing the door behind him, realising _exactly_ what he’s doing to his prisoner. 

Regina eventually stops vomiting. But as soon as the man approaches her, a full ladle in hand, she retches in protest. 

‘Ya gotta drink sometime or that’ll just get worse,’ the beast states, taking in her shuddering form, her glazed eyes, her bloodied nose, her oversized tongue. 

Regina can only shake her head, her mouth suddenly bone dry, causing her chest to heave with every breath she inhales. The man kneels in front of her. She’s too exhausted to move away. He places the ladle at her clamped shut lips. 

‘I ain’t moving til you drink,’ he warns, his actions taunting and torturous. The man knows she'll want nil by mouth for the rest of her 835 life sentences. ‘Fine,’ he huffs, pinching her broken nose harshly, forcing her to open her mouth. 

Regina whimpers pathetically as he pours water into her conflicted mouth. Renewed heaves keep her company as her throat spasms in revolt against the thirst-quenching liquid; from the pain exploding from her pinched nose. 

The man clamps his huge paws around Regina’s head, preventing her from spitting it out or vomiting. Just when the fallen queen believes she may asphyxiate on her own vomit, the beast lets go; her body trembling uncontrollably as she simultaneously retches the last remaining contents of her stomach, whilst struggling to inhale adequate oxygen to stay conscious. 

‘Look what ‘e did to ya face,’ the man whispers softly, his regret only for his marred view of her previously beautiful face, his knuckle preventing her lolling head from crashing to the cobbled floor. ‘Let me...’ 

Almost immediately, Regina notices the pain in and around her nose disappear. Her dazed eyes widen as her furious headache and ringing ears quieten to nothing. The fallen queen can’t help but sigh with sudden relief, before this action reminds her of every other injury riddling her body. She looks at the man for the first time since he entered. 

‘You can... mend me?’ Regina splutters, her enlarged tongue and constant nausea making speech difficult. 

‘Only when I wanna,’ the beast states matter-of-factly, causing her mouth to drop open; her face paling an even more ashen shade. Regina swallows reflexively, bile instantly invading her mouth. ‘Thank me,’ the man goads her maliciously. 

She spits out the remaining bile in answer, her eyes igniting in earnest. 

‘Fine,’ he murmurs again, undoing his buttoned fly and proceeding to knock the wind out of her, as his huge bulk climbs on top of her once more. 

After he’s used and torn her diaphragm, the beast leaves her a broken mess on the cell floor; Regina's _entire_ body trembling as her adrenaline slowly ebbs and is replaced by shocked numbness at being raped again. 

The fallen queen can’t silence the whimpering howl of agony that erupts from her soul; her entire being on fire from the repeated assaults perpetrated on her weakening body. 

She curls as tightly in on herself as her injuries will allow; shooting pain rioting through her lower abdomen from where he brutalised her. 

After what feels like years of repeated abuse, but has only been days, Regina finally allows herself to cry; her tears silent yet fierce as the sheer heinacity of her imprisonment collapses on her in crushing waves of harrowing despair. 

When a recognizable pop sounds and the whoosh of gusty wind ruffles her hair, Regina inhales as steadying a breath as her surging anxiety will allow; wondering who will be appearing next and more importantly, what punishment they feel justified to inflict upon her. 


	6. Confrontation/Dearie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma finally finds and confronts Snow and David.  
> Regina gets another visitor.
> 
> Warning for abuse injury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for getting me to 98 kudos, and for all those commenting, subscribing and bookmarking. 
> 
> Please do keep them comin'!

Emma bangs aggressively on Snows loft apartment door, her patience depleted to non-existent. 

As soon as the door creaks open, she barrels into the living space, fearing her parents might slam the door in her face, following the last few infuriating hours of fruitless searching. 

‘What the _h_ _ell’s_ going on, Mary Mag...?’ Emma pauses on spying the unbidden scowl creasing Snows forehead, at being addressed by her curse name. ‘Where have you been?’ she continues her rant, unrepentant. ‘Madam _fucking_ Mayor is _missing!_ And you’ve been _fuck_ knows where... So, _help_ me _God if_ you don’t tell me this _instant,_ what the...!? And _don’t_ you _dare_ tell me you don’t know because every- _fucking_ -bodies directed me back to your door.’ The Saviour’s chest heaves rapidly as she glares at her shocked parents. 

‘Hello to you _too,_ Emma,’ Snow finally replies, making the blonde grind her teeth in irritation and embarrassment. 

‘Hi,’ comes her clipped response. 

Snow looks to her blindly adoring Prince for support as their daughter’s suspicious eyes bore guilty holes into their souls. 

‘I think it's best you sit down Emma,’ David suggests as Snow reaches into the refrigerator. 

A bottle of champagne and three flutes materialise in front of a volcanically bristling Emma, before her parents eventually sit down opposite her, at the kitchen island. 

Emma glares, furiously intrigued, as cataclysmic impatient gnaws at her gut; watching Snow slowly fill the glasses as David fidgets nervously with his sleeve button. Her agonisingly slow pouring and his obvious anxiety doing nothing but cultivating a weighted dread that seeps into every fibre of Emma’s being. 

‘ _Enough!_ ’ the Saviour finally snaps, knocking her stall over in her haste to stand. ‘Every _second_ you waste pouring that _fucking_ prosecco substitute is another minute _Henry_ could be in danger. The whole town...’ 

‘Henry and the townsfolk of StoryBrooke are safe, Emma,’ Snow states firmly, meeting her daughters gaze for the first time. 

Emma instinctively frowns at the glee flitting across her ex best friends/now mother’s features. ‘Where’s Regina, Mar...?’ 

Both Snow and David raise their glasses, waiting for the Saviour to mirror them. She doesn’t. Her parents keep their obnoxious smiles as they wonder why their daughter isn’t thrilled by their return, by the fact they can be a family for the first time in 28 years. 

‘Emma, _please_. For your mother,’ David requests quietly, gesturing to the untouched glass in front of her. 

Emma slams her hand against the granite, internally raging. ‘You gave birth to me. You didn’t _nurture_ me. You _abandoned_ me. You...’ 

‘No, no, Emma,’ Snow argues vehemently, rushing to her daughters’ side to placate her. ‘The Evil Queen... Regina _forced_ us to protect you and give you the best chance by...’ 

Emma shrugs off Snow's claustrophobic hug, stepping back until she’s leant against their front door. 

‘No,’ the blonde counters. ‘She may have caste the curse, but _you_ chose to put me in that trunk. You chose to sentence me to a childhood without parents, _without_ protection, _without_ love, because _you_ needed me to...’ 

‘She tried to _kill_ you! She almost killed _Henry!’_ Snow bleats back, _desperate_ for her daughter to understand their position. 

‘Yes,’ Emma affirms, raising her arms to ward the suffocating Charming's off. 

_The fucking_ _Charming's,_ _no less! My life was real; harrowing yet normal. This... this Disney family... is... just..._

‘And I will never forgive her for that...’ 

‘Regina has been rightfully convicted for her crimes,’ David says calmly, trying to placate his surprisingly volatile daughter. 

Emma turns to her _father_ with perplexed eyes. 'What?’ 

Snow quickly retrieves Emma's abandoned flute glass from the side and offers it to her. The champagne is ignored.

‘What. Did. You. Do. To. Her?’ Emma asks anxiously, her tone _daring_ the strangers standing in front of her to lie. 

The disconcerting glee fades from Snows eyes. The offered flute lowers until half the contents spills onto the floor unnoticed. 

‘She _took_ 28 years from _us._ She _poisoned_ Henry. She _tried_ to poison _you._ She _killed_ my father. _Killed_ my mother by proxy, and hundreds of my people... Regina _deserves_ punishment and suffering!’ Snow rattles off the Mayor’s many criminal deeds, surprised her shockingly irrational daughter needs it spelt out. 

‘So, because _you_ think she _deserves_ it, you’ve what? Sentenced her to death?’ Emma blasts back. ‘And what kinda arsewipe trial lasts less than ten days?’ she continues, unable to stem her torrent of blasphemy. ‘In the _r_ _eal_ world, you aren’t this princess, Mary Margaret,’ the blonde realises she enjoys calling her _mother_ by the name that was given to her by the Evil Queen herself. ‘In the _real_ world, you’re a _fictional_ character who sang to blue birds and lived with seven dwarfs. You don’t get to be judge and jury in this world, even if the person accused tried to kill your daughter!’ the Saviour finds herself completely unable to stop now the floodgates have opened. ‘Regina tried to kill me, not Henry. At first, I wanted to kill her myself, but when I saw how devastated she was, I realised she has been more of a mother to him than I have _ever_ been; more than you _ever_ were to me. And that _counts_ for _something_ , _something_ you and I will never truly regain.' 

Snow steps back as though burnt by the flames spewing from her daughter’s lips. 

‘If you have taken my sons mother from him, for sheer vengeance, you are _no better_ than she is. Because if the Evil Queen had enough goodness inside her to raise your grandson to become a moraled, considerate and well-mannered kid, Regina has earned the right to a fair trial.’ 

Snow looks aghast at her spirited daughter. Of all the fantasied scenarios she played out in her mind’s eye, _this_ was the farthest from her imagined, lovingly celebratory reunion. ‘But she...’ 

‘Is Regina alive?’ 

‘Yes,’ David replies, despondent; his own glass hanging limp and forgotten in his hand. 

‘Where is she?’ 

* * *

Regina’s entire body revolts against her as she gazes into the eyes of her next foe. 

‘Tortured chic becomes you, Dearie,’ is Gold's opening gambit as he feeds off the anguished agony positively emanating from the fallen queen. 

_Get up_ _! Sit up_ _!_ Regina tries to will herself into a less vulnerable position. The bastard beast left her naked and ravaged; new bruises, welts and tears covering her entire body from how brutally he used her. 

No amount of inner strength will motivate her abused body to move. It utterly devastates her, as the imp approaches her crumbled form. Regina innately stiffens, causing her to keen in agony. 

‘Come to pay your debts, Gold?’ she somehow finds the strength to quip, fighting to keep her forced smirk from faltering. 

‘I think it’s more the other way round,’ he states seriously, surprising Regina. 

_Obviously not in_ _a bantering_ _mood. Shit!_ She uses her unharmed hand to pull against the cobbles in hopes of righting herself to eye her most dangerous foe more easily. Gold's lips curve into a smile as he watches his former nemesis’ plunge from grace. 

‘I was going to leave you be and watch from a distance. Like a vulture waiting for the hyenas to eat their fill,’ he snarls with ill-concealed rage as he kneels beside Regina's uselessly depleted form. ‘Then I received an epiphany of sorts,’ Gold whispers into her ear, now leaning over her nakedness; her heaving chest and gag reflex poised to reveal how truly terrified she is in this moment, sensing the quietly seething rage emanating off of her long-term mentor in crashing waves. 

_Please!_ Regina’s mind silently begs, desperately praying he won’t touch her; her lips staying resolutely shut to hide her fear, nausea and shame. 

‘I found something that is _dear_ to me. Someone I... love... who doesn’t even remember who I am.’ 

The fallen queen closes her eyes fleetingly, in comprehension. 

_He found her..._

‘You had her locked in that cell for _28 years_ and I got to thinking... What can I do to make you _suffer_ more than any one soul can tolerate?’ Gold theatrically asks himself, leaning back from her earlobe and affording Regina the simple mercy of personal space. 

Regina swallows thickly as bile fills her mouth; _knowing_ the imp will inflict a punishment of sufficient heinacity, she will regret the day she thought rape was the worst abuse that could be dealt. 

The adversaries glare at each other for several minutes; one deciding on the worse of two tortures, the other waiting for this torturer to tear her soul apart. 

When Gold eventually steps forward, Regina’s lungs seize, expecting the deepest echoes of hell. He purposely grabs the bruised wrist of her crushed hand, squeezing it painfully as he firmly presses his palm into hers. 

_‘_ _No!_ _’_ Regina screams, belatedly realising what Gold is inflicting on her. She desperately tries to free her crushed hand. But the imp tightens his vicelike grip, grinding her broken bones together and forcing her to concentrate on not blacking out from the excruciating pain. 

Gold emits a parody of his gleefully manic, Rumplestiltskin laugh as he loosens his grip. ‘This wraith won’t be taking your soul, Regina. It will take something much worse. It’ll take your sanity, _Dearie.’_

And with that sickening promise, Gold throws her crushed and marked hand to the cobbled floor, delighting in the tsk of pain that follows his malicious treatment, before he waves his hand and disappears in a plume of black smoke. 


	7. Conflict/Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma feels ready to hurt Snow and David.  
> Regina experiences the full extent of Gold's branding. 
> 
> Warnings for emotional, physical and sexual abuse.
> 
> PLEASE heed the tags and warnings. Please don't read the fic, if it offends you.
> 
> This is a cathartic experience for me. I need to get this out. I promise there is hope, healing and love ahead.
> 
> Tiny edit to rectify capital punishment mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for getting me to 120 kudos and 60 comments. I can't quite believe it. 
> 
> Please keep them comin'.
> 
> Regina will have a reprieve next chapter and Emma is coming soon. I promise.

When Snow and David look at her with pensive yet resolute expressions, Emma realises she doesn’t know her alleged parents at all.

 _‘Where_ is she?’ the Saviour repeats herself, standing her ground against two suddenly more formidable foes.

Emma swears under her breath, recognising the silent refusals hardening their eyes.

‘She _deserves_ to be where she is, Emma,’ Snow whispers gravely, placing her champagne glass on a nearby table, praying her daughter sees sense. ‘Regina’s not safe to be...’

‘Surely if anyone has the right to make that decision, it's _Henry,’_ Emma argues, knowing her son would never want his mom... ‘And he _never_ once mentioned wanting her out of his life,’ the blonde continues, realising she’s currently fighting for her son’s mother’s life.

_Madam Mayor... Regina..._

‘The kid _needs_ her... I... I need her...’ she confesses out loud for the first time.

Her parents scowl at her admission, guessing the painful truth as Emma _desperately_ tries to shore up the gaping hole in her exposed heart.

_Shit! Quick! Think of something!_

‘I don’t know the first thing about parenting an 11-year-old.' The barb strikes home. ‘Let alone single parenting a...’

‘You’re _great_ with him, Emma,’ David whispers, his gaze fixed on the floor.

‘What do I tell him?’ Emma ignores the futile compliment, her shoulders slumping with agitated hopelessness.

Snow chances approaching the bristling Saviour again, utterly ignorant of the appropriate ways to comfort her daughter.

The blonde shrugs off her mother’s awkward attempts. _‘Don’t touch me!_ You _haven't_ earned it!’ she snaps, stepping away from Snow's cloying hands.

Snow noticeably shatters under her daughters cutting remarks. Her eyes moisten as her mouth stays uncharacteristically shut. David strokes her arm, championing her like the blind lap dog he’s always been.

Emma glares at them, _disgusted_ by their disregard for their grandson, for their _own_ daughter, in favour of God knows what.

The blonde runs her fingers through her hair in overt frustration. ‘What am I going to tell the kid?’ she asks again, after taking a sharp inhale of breath to calm her frayed nerves.

Snow looks to her ever-present lap dog for assistance.

‘That his mother has been rightfully convicted for trying to murder him,’ David states gravely, causing Emma to pace in frustration.

‘She didn’t try to...’

 _‘Does it matter?’_ Snow suddenly barks. ‘Regina tried to murder _my_ flesh and blood! She _has_ murdered my...’

‘Yes, but...’

‘Why are you _defending_ her?’ Snow aggressively interrupts, eyes ablaze and hands on hips as David stares at the floor red faced.

‘Because I’m the Sheriff and I wasn’t informed or involved in the court process,’ Emma whistles through her teeth, attempting to swallow her seething rage _and_ avoid the subject of Regina. ‘You might...’ she inhales a calming breath. ‘This isn’t the way we do things here,’ she simmers quietly. ‘There’s a process. There’s a formality...’

‘If we did things the Maine way, she'd be sentenced to death,’ Snow retorts, her ire not yet sated.

‘Has she been?’ Emma tries again.

‘No,’ David whispers self consciously.

Emma inhales a relieved breath. 'And capital punishment was abolished in Maine in 1887, so...'

'What year is it?' Snow asks indignantly.

'2012.'

Her parents swallow hard as they share anxious glances. 

‘Henry and I have a _right_ to know what you’ve done to her!’

‘Yes, you do,’ Snow concedes. ‘But after all this,’ she gestures towards Emma and her seemingly inexplicable behaviour. ‘I’m honestly _devastated_ that you don’t understand we’re _saving_ your and Henry's lives.’ David nods and looks at Emma for the first time since this agonisingly awkward gathering began.

Emma threads her fingers through her hair, still pacing the open living space. She doesn’t speak for several minutes, knowing the thoughts spiralling through her head would cause further devastation.

_What the hell do I tell Henry?_

_Who are these people who call themselves heroes? My parents?_

_What are they capable of if they...?_

_What have they done to her? To the fucked up yet so obviously tormented Madam Mayor?_

_I know the fire in her eyes; the hurt and despair bubbling just below the surface. I know it because I’ve felt that... that murderous rage to..._ Emma would know that look anywhere: _the formidable mask of impenetrable fierceness, hiding a lost girl, an abused soul, a victim._ The blonde would bet her heart on it.

_That or the woman's a psychopath._

_But Madam Mayor adopted Henry, my kid, and he loves her enough to plead to see her on our way back...._

‘You know, all the way ho... back, all Henry talked about was seeing his mom and getting an explanation for why she did what she did. That’s _all_ he wants. You’re depriving him...’

‘Henry’s _not_ safe with _that_ woman!’ Snow snaps again, her blind righteousness so utterly infuriating.

Emma about turns and stalks into Snow’s personal space. _‘That_ is _not_ for you to decide, Mary Margaret!’ she hisses through gritted teeth. ‘Now you...’ the blonde directs her heated glare at David, the weaker of the two. ‘... are going to tell me what you’ve done to Regina or I’ll bring the kid up here and leave you to explain why he can’t see his mom!’

* * *

Regina knows she mustn’t fall asleep. To do so will awaken every nightmare inside her cluttered mental closet, the wraith mark branded into her hand making this horrific torture a certainty.

Regina eyes feel loaded with dead weights, her body screams for self-repair only sleep, time or magic can heal. Every inch of her aches, bleeds, trembles or stings; her variable injuries sustained to date, enough to kill any mortal person several times over.

Yet the fallen queen lives, to _feel_ every searing jolt of pain surging through her every nerve ending, at the simplest of movements: breathing. Further movement is simply impossible.

 _Stay awake... breathe... Owww! Please... please stay... open..._ she begs her eyes, her being, her entirety. _Snow White... Prince..._ Regina winces as a particularly deep inhale spears her abdomen. _Prince... Uncharming... The Beast... Whale... Gold... Dean... Nameless Guard..._ the brunette recites her current list of eventual torture victims, when she can escape this...

Her eyes slide shut. Regina abruptly tears them open so forcefully, her upper body jerks in complaint and jarring fear, causing spasms of incomparable agony to wreck her nervous system.

‘Argh!’ she cries, unable to silence the piercing screams as her psyche thanks her pain receptors for jolting her awake, from almost inescapable slumber. Regina grits her teeth as waves of searing pain wash over her, leaving her perspiring and nauseated. She inhales several strangled breaths as her abdominal muscles threaten to tear under this necessary action. Tears spill from her eyes as her abused form instinctively squirms under the ferocity of her rioting agony.

When Regina hears her cell door open, she freezes, causing ripples of stabbing pain to riot up her midsection.

_No..._

A huff punctuates Regina's uncontrollable screams as the beast hovers over her.

‘Enouf of this!’ his tone drips with annoyance as he blows something into the fallen queen’s face. ‘Sleep time.’

Regina wakes with a shuddering jolt, a residue cry escaping her lips as she takes in the splendour of her Royal Queen rooms.

_Oh God! No!_

Her eyes take in what her mind cannot. Regina is currently sat up in her purple silk bed, her orbs desperately searching every corner of the room as her psyche tries to catch up with the overwhelming evidence set before her.

Regina pushes the silk throw aside, hurrying out of her bed and racing to the door.

_Please... please don’t be..._

But as soon as she wraps her hand around the door knob, dread crashes over her in suffocating waves. It’s locked, meaning only one thing. Fresh perspiration beads over Regina’s shivering flesh as she frantically searches for a place to hide; knowing in her heart, there’s no escape, there _never_ was; the brunette’s terror so pronounced, she doesn’t notice her pain free motion, in her haste to flee, to hide, to...

Regina freezes; despair, horror and anguish infiltrating her every fibre as he tries the door. The fallen queen could always measure how drunk he was by how many attempts it would take him to successfully position the key in the lock.

_One... two... three... four... God! No!_

He eventually loses patience, demanding one of the guards unlock the door at once.

Regina swallows the first surge of bile as a dishevelled Leopold enters her rooms. She hears the inevitable click of the bolt behind him, the guards locking her in with this monster, her abusive husband.

Regina swallows again, her eyes unblinking, her body frozen, poised as she waits for him to make his move. She assesses him to be grossly inebriated. A definite positive, if one can be found.

_He won’t be able to..._

‘My Squeen,’ he slurs as his lecherous eyes roam her body.

Regina internally flinches with disgust, though her external poise remains; her one defence: never allow the King to see how much his treatment tortures her.

‘Dithrobe,’ Leopold grunts as he begins to sway towards her.

Regina remains frozen, _praying_ he collapses into an alcohol induced stupor before he has the opportunity to paw her.

‘Dith... robe... _now!’_ Leopold snaps aggressively, making Regina visibly tremble, realising he isn’t inebriated enough.

‘No,’ she tries instead, utilising her second tactic in a perilous game of cat and mouse.

‘No?’ he smirks, his chuckle booming through the room. ‘Youth wan’ me... to call the guardths to... shelp...?’ he threatens, as shivers of revulsion riot up Regina's spine.

She eventually blinks her eyes, keeping them trained on her past... her present abuser. ‘Leopold, you should go to bed. I’ll make sure the servants give you plenty of water before bed...’

‘Sped... now!’ he whines, pointing towards Regina, then her bed; his meaning _painfully_ clear. ‘Now... damn youth!’ he yells, abruptly picking up speed until he's cradling Regina’s jaw roughly, in his hands. All she can do is follow his sharp, aggressive movements. To do otherwise would break her neck.

Leopold throws Regina onto the bed, his bulk pinning her petite frame within seconds.

‘No Leo! I _don’t_ want this!’ Regina can’t help but scream as her abusive husband clumsily wrenches up her dress, tearing impatiently at her undergarments. ‘No, Leopold, _stop!_ I _DON’T WANT THIS!’_ she howls as she vainly struggles against him.

‘Shusth up!’ he yells harshly, burping in her face. Regina’s stomach queases as the stale stench of bad breath, acid juices and body odour overwhelm her senses.

After successfully ridding his queen of her undergarments, Leopold drunkenly sniffs the radiant scent of her. Disgusted, Regina kicks him, connecting with his thigh which causes him to lose his balance and fall off the bed.

Regina immediately runs for the door, _desperately_ twisting the knob and clawing at the fine oak with everything she has. ‘Unlock the door!’ she commands shakily, terrified out of her skin as the guards standing outside ignore her pleas. ‘Unlock the door _dammit!_ Open the _fucking_ door!’

A hand suddenly materialises on her mouth, stifling her screams as his other savagely tears at her skirts; his body pinning her to the door. Regina scratches at his face, sides and abdomen to no avail; her efforts utterly ignored in his drunken haste to take her.

Regina feels him lean into her backside, his member hard and desperate for satiation.

 _No!_ ‘Leo, _please!_ It’s my blood...’ Regina tries to reason, as her husband finally succeeds in releasing his member from his pants, after several fumbled attempts. He sighs disgustingly at the freedom this gives him as he leans fully into his queen.

‘Thaths quite... a mouths... youth goth there... Youth want... me... to... treath youth... like a whore?’ Leopold breathes into her neck, planting slobbering kisses on and around her throat column.

A shiver of revulsion riots through Regina as she swallows and closes her eyes, steadying her resolve before she pushes with all her might against the brute of a man holding her captive.

 _‘Don’t touch me,_ you _disease ridden vermin!’_ she barks, spinning round just in time to feel a sharp explosion of pain across her left cheekbone. The well-aimed slap sends her reeling, her head slamming into the door, half knocking her out.

Regina subconsciously rubs her reddening cheek as her brain struggles to comprehend the next few moments, her senses stunned by the ferocity of the strike; deafening drum beats and blurry, slow motion images her only companions.

Only the sharp, searing pain of forcible, dry intrusion jolts Regina from her stupor. A soft whimper escapes her restraint as she fully awakens to the inevitable. Her King, her husband, her tyrant is violating her mouth with his vile, beer rag tongue; his body pinning hers to the door, his hips stuttering an unsteady rhythm as he ruts into her like a rabid, crazed animal.

Regina closes her eyes as his hands squeeze her naked bottom, molesting her whilst keeping her locked in his disgusting embrace.

She tries to break free from the suffocating kiss but his tongue refuses to relent, his _desperate_ need to taste every secret of her mouth, soul destroyingly cloying and nauseating. Leopold's glazed eyes remain open, feeding off Regina’s anguish as he gorges on the exquisite taste of her. This is the reason Regina will never willingly be kissed, touched, taken. The lecherous indignities her abusive husband bestowed upon her, enough to rid her want of the attentions of any man, _ever_ again.

As Leopold continues his demonic thrusts, Regina's mind journeys to a dream land; a place where justice is served to men like her husband, to a place where women have rights over their bodies, their minds, their lives. Where women can curse and choose their husband... or wife. Where women can love other women and where they don’t need men to have children...

Regina awakens screaming in agony as the utter heinacity of her situation reveals itself:

Awake, Regina’s an exiled prisoner in the ‘Whatever goes cell’, with mortal injuries, abusive guards and demented visitors to keep her company.

Asleep, Regina is ruthlessly sucked back to the darkest moments of her past, giving her no respite, no healing, no peace in a world of relentlessly unlawful punishment.

A hauntingly familiar pop, and whoosh of air, signals another vengeance filled visitor. Regina audibly groans under the weight of her trauma'd mind, body and soul as she attempts to mentally prepare herself for yet another round with the devil.

'Christ! Regina!' comes the voice of the only man she knows won't use her. 


	8. Deal/Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma is forced to make a deal with Gold.  
> Regina prays for mercy from Jefferson.
> 
> Warning for torture.
> 
> Thoughts/past/nightmare in italics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you readers have been so kind with kudos and comments, I thought I'd upload early. 
> 
> Enjoy

When her threat of bringing Henry up to the loft doesn’t work, Emma storms out; her anxiety, frustration and rage so all encompassing, she fears she’ll _hurt_ Snow if she stays a moment longer.

Emma descends the stairs at speed, her need to run, to rid herself of the excess adrenaline and the very real urge to punch her, overwhelming.

Only when she hears the bell, does she realise she's entering Mr Gold's shop. Though this takes her by surprise, Emma decides to follow her instincts, the only sense she currently trusts.

‘We're closed, Dearie,’ Gold warns, walking out of his back room at speed, a petite brunette following close behind him.

Emma blanches, the notion she’s just interrupted _something_ too potent to ignore, especially when the brunette fumbles with her bra strap.

_Brunette... Bra strap... Regin..._

‘Er... sorry Mr Gold, but this is important,’ the blonde interrupts her own wayward thoughts. She actively shakes herself to stop further fantasies flooding her subconscious.

‘And so was what _we_ were doing!’ Gold retorts, making an internally squirming Emma that much more uncomfortable.

‘Then perhaps lock your door when you’re _busy!’_ Emma counters icily, gaining a reptilian smile from Gold. They both know he’s too concerned with missing out on a juicy deal to ever do more than flip the closed sign on his shop door.

‘Belle,’ he whispers, his voice softening to a timbre Emma's never heard him use before. ‘Can you find that globe for me?’ Belle nods her head coyly. ‘I’ll be right there to help you after I’ve dealt with Miss Swan.’

Emma inwardly cringes as Belle proceeds to walk out back; Gold positively brimming with glee at her arrival. ‘I’ve been waiting for you, Saviour,’ he drawls, his dead eyes igniting with devilishly merriment.

Emma expertly clocks the undercurrent of his delight.

_He sees an easy, unequal deal coming._

What sickens her is the fact Gold _is_ right. Emma would only enter this particular crocodile's lair if there was nowhere else to turn.

‘What can I do for you, Miss Swan?’

‘We both know you have an _exact_ idea of why I’m here, Gold,’ she snaps, her frayed patience leaving her in no mood for games, especially _his_ games.

‘Well, I suppose you’re right,’ he confirms, stepping behind his counter and readying himself for business. ‘But my overriding question is why?’ he asks, Emma's moronic choice of direction beyond him.

Having grown wise to his ways, Emma rebuffs his attempts to creep inside her head. ‘That’s for me to know.’

Gold smiles tightly at her overt swerve, her avoidance of the simple question intriguing the town parasite no end. ‘As you wish, Dearie,’ he nods nonchalantly, feigning encroaching boredom in hopes of lulling the Saviour into a top-heavy deal.

Unfortunately for Emma, she no longer has the patience, inclination or time to dance to Gold's infuriating beat. ‘Where’s Regina?’

Gold has to suppress a gleeful giggle at the ease with which he will plunder the blonde. ‘Not so fast, Miss Swan,’ he states firmly, seemingly pondering a worthy request for his side of the bargain. In truth, he’d thought of it the moment Regina was exiled to the Enchanted Forest. ‘I need you to swear you will protect me from falling victim to the same or similar fate as Mayor Regina Mills.’

Emma frowns, finding the request odd given the Dark One possesses the most powerful of magic. Emma currently possesses the sum total of none. ‘I can’t protect you anymore than I...’

‘What you’re doing for Regina right now and what you are yet to become, will give you the necessary abilities and confidence to do what I ask,’ Gold argues cryptically, fuelling Emma’s scepticism.

 _If agreeing to something impossible allows me to rescue... to find Regina, I’m game_.

‘Deal,’ she agrees, instantly feeling an unease in her gut when Gold smiles his most cold-blooded grin. ‘Shoot,’ Emma prompts in hopes of ridding herself of this sudden nausea.

‘Regina’s being held prisoner in the ‘Whatever goes cell’ in your parents Castle, in the Enchanted Forest,’ Gold offers succinctly.

Emma’s mouth forms an ‘O’, her suspicions surrounding her parents proven beyond doubt, before she swallows thickly. ‘Whatever goes cell?’

‘Now don’t be greedy, Miss Swan. I gave you what you asked for,’ Gold reveals the reason behind his shit-eating grin of moments ago.

 _You bastard!_ Emma’s mind spits, though her anger is mostly directed inward, at her own stupidity.

Gold enjoys the Saviour’s dawning realisation for several beats, before he about turns, intending to disappear into the back room, back to Belle.

‘I need more,’ Emma requests, her voice suddenly hoarse as she mulls over that cell.

‘Needing more will mean another deal, Dearie,’ Gold plays his ace card, the Saviour's fury now fully evident on her face. ‘You asked where she was. I told you.’

Emma grits her teeth at his infuriatingly _correct_ argument. She bites her lip and fists her hands to stop herself swearing and beating him to hell.

‘Don’t, Miss Swan. _Don’t_ test me,’ he warns, reading Emma’s seething indignation.

The blonde takes several calming breaths before she trusts herself to speak. ‘I’ve been played all fucking day,’ she whispers, her blazing eyes telling of her chagrin.

‘As you have been your entire life, I’d wager,’ Gold twists the knife, waiting to pounce on her once more.

Emma glares at him; the only thing preventing her from snapping his neck, knowing she wouldn’t get far before he killed her.

_Henry..._

The thought of her kid losing both his mothers in so many days, a notion Emma simply _can’t_ entertain.

‘How do I rescue her?’

‘You see, Miss Swan, I make deals when I'm set to gain something. I’ve got what I needed from you, so I no longer feel the urge to bargain,’ Gold concludes, turning his back on her. ‘Good day,’ is his parting gambit as Emma grabs a candle stick from his assortment of antiques and throws it at his retreating form.

The potential weapon falls to the ground with a clatter as Gold slowly turns back to Emma. ‘Your spirit is admirable, Miss Swan. But perhaps _think_ about the reasons behind the Charming’s imprisoning _your_ Madam Mayor...’

_Shit, he knows I..._

‘... in that hellhole, before you decide to free the Evil Queen.’

‘And perhaps _think_ about the unlawfulness of her punishment, if it makes _even_ the Dark One terrified enough to request my protection!’ Emma flings back, eyeing Gold weightily before she turns and stalks out, slamming his shop door closed behind her.

* * *

The next thing Regina’s conscious of is the alarmed eyes and soft touch of a highly conflicted Jefferson.

 _‘Godamnit,_ Regina!’ he exclaims as he gently cups her jaw, his intense gaze searching her face as he pulls his jacket from his shoulders, laying it over her naked and obviously brutalised body.

His unexpected kindness springing tears to her eyes before she swallows them down, knowing this man came here for a reason, a reason Regina intends to give him; _anything_ to stop him, _them, anyone_ touching her ever again.

‘Please stop,’ she murmurs as Jefferson’s thumb glides over her bruised cheekbone.

Without needing further explanation, he places her head gently back on the cobbles, before he abruptly stands. ‘Hey, guard?!’ Jefferson calls gruffly, surprised at the emotions rioting through him at finding the Evil Queen so utterly broken.

Regina's heart beat surges when the beast opens her cell door. ‘Wha'?’ he asks, apparently irked by Jefferson’s tone.

‘You can heal her right?’

‘Yeah,’ the beast answers, unmoved.

‘So, do it!’ Jefferson demands, returning his gaze to the nauseating sight of a thoroughly abused woman, Evil Queen be damned.

‘Ya know she’s the...’ the beast begins, staring at Jefferson as though he were mad.

‘Yes,’ he interrupts, his anger seemingly multiplying with every second this guard allows a woman to remain in the throes of unimaginable pain and torment. ‘But no one, not _even_ the Evil Queen, deserves _this!’_ he gestures to the husk that once held the woman he despised and admired in equal measure.

‘She deserves everythin' she gettin' and more,’ the beast argues, cupping himself to deepen his point.

‘Get out!’ Jefferson roars, _disgusted_ that this monster, dressed as a guard, has brutalised this spirited woman to nothing. He inhales several calming breaths, desperately trying to keep the dizziness, nausea and memories at bay.

Jefferson calls the beast a second time. ‘Heal her.’

‘Ya missed ya chance. Ya only ge’ one chance ta heal ‘er, and that’s on ya way in,’ the beast explains with great pleasure as Jefferson’s face contorts with rage.

‘I know you can heal her. I _know_ you can.’

‘Ya righ',’ the beast confesses almost comically, if the situation weren’t so despicable. ‘I just don’t wanna,’ he further admits, making Regina’s stomach churn. ‘Ya gonna be trouble?’ Threat suddenly laces the beast’s tone as several of his guard mates come to stand behind him in a Maori-esk show of fierce dominance.

‘No,’ is all Jefferson can say as the guard gives him one final death stare before slamming the door shut behind him.

Jefferson lowers his head in defeat and disgust, as triggering memories flood his mind.

_He knew the moment he saw her lifeless body floating on the river. He just knew._

_Ever since his wife was gang raped the previous winter, she had been a shadow of a wife, a mother, of herself._

_Finding her naked, ravaged and broken had almost killed him. Only finding her drowned surpassed this most grisly of discoveries._

Jefferson shakes his head to rid himself of the images of his nightmares. He turns back to a jacket covered Regina, her trauma'd brown eyes staring at him with something akin to uncertainty and desperation.

‘You... tried,’ she murmurs in recognition of his attempts to lessen her agony, before she coughs at the effort, causing spasms of jarring pain to splinter through her torso.

Jefferson hurries to her side, his hands raised yet useless, unknowing of what to do to ease her... ‘I _still_ hate you, you know,’ he whispers, the vehemence behind his words unmistakable.

‘And I... you,’ Regina is able to fling back, causing Jefferson to shake his head, a wry smile on his lips.

‘I wanted to see you hurt, see you cry, holler and scream,’ he admits, his intense eyes falling on Regina’s broken form, her laboured breaths alone telling of her quiet agony. ‘But seeing you... like... _this...’_ Jefferson shakes his head again but this time, with no mirth. ‘I was going to electrocute you...’

It’s only then Regina spies the leather dentist like chair with wrist, neck and ankle straps, behind him. She actively swallows her terror, her big brown eyes conveying her truth more openly than she ever, _ever_ intended.

‘Just give me back my daughter,’ Jefferson asks, pleads; seemingly as repulsed by the idea of electrocuting her as Regina is herself.

The fallen queen inhales a shuddering breath which causes explosions of searing pain to spider through her rib cage and abdomen. Jefferson’s kindness, in a sea of malicious cruelty, enough to break her stubborn resolve. ‘In my... vault...’ Regina winces as agony consumes her for several moments. ‘The third heart... chest... argh!’ she all out screams as her entire being erupts with pain. ‘...fifth to the... right.... reverse potion...’ Regina’s every nerve ending is on fire as she sweats profusely; both she and Jefferson _praying_ she remains conscious to share his only wish. ‘It... will... take... you back... to... be... fore the... curse... Before... your... wife...’

As soon as Regina imparts this most elusive of information, Jefferson kneels in front of her crumpled, jacket covered form. ‘If you’re lying to me...’

Fear jolts through Regina’s entire being. ‘I pro... mise... on... Henry's...’ the thought and mention of her son leaves her spiralling into feverish oblivion.

‘Well, I know you’re an _evil_ bitch, but even _you_ were capable of loving your boy,’ Jefferson snipes, his tone morphing from gentle to cruel within seconds.

The next thing Regina feels is the unforgivingly tight straps wrapped around her neck, wrists and ankles.

‘No! I...’ she screams before regretting it, her every nerve ending jostling agonisingly.

When Jefferson laughs his demented laugh, a chill surges up Regina’s spine; his intense gaze inches from hers. ‘You _really_ thought I’d let your weakness dampen my rage for all you’ve done?’

Regina whimpers in indescribable terror, belatedly feeling the electrodes attached to her temples, neck, nipples, knees and toes, realising this was _all_ an act. ‘Jef...’

‘Your men _brutalised_ my wife, at your behest!’ he yells, his madness on full display now he’s gotten what he came for... almost.

‘No... I...’

‘Shut up, you _sick, twisted witch!’_ Jefferson spits in her face, causing Regina to flinch under this latest humiliation.

 _I would... never... order the... rap..._ her mind fights on, as he forces a rubber gag into her mouth. _Oh! Stop! Please goddamnit, stop!_

‘Then you _took_ my daughter from me and _erased_ all her memories,’ he continues, his seething ire volcanic and blistering. ‘She thinks I’m a _fucking_ stranger, _because of you!’_

The last thing Regina remembers, the manically gleeful grin adorning Jefferson's features as he twists the gauge and sparks the current.

‘No!’ _Regina screams herself into consciousness as images of Cora standing over her, a smirk of pride and duty adorning her mother’s face, watching her cradle the lifeless body of her stable girl lover... Daniella._

Dani...

_Regina inhales sharply as these memories begin to fade, but never entirely disappear, back into her mind’s eye. The fallen queens distress so pronounced, her physical pain with every chest heave, secondary to the emotional torment of reliving her Dani’s death at her mother’s hand._

A male voice brings her harrowing delirium to an abrupt end. ‘Didn’t think ya had it in ya,’ comes the beasts praising tones as Jefferson's prepares to leave.

‘Lulling her into a false sense of security is one of the deepest mind fucks of all,’ he imparts, his manic insanity seemingly sated following his chosen torture of the fallen queen.

Jefferson glares at Regina one final time, before leaving her tied up and at the mercy of the beast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter of horridness, then...will Emma save her....


	9. Henry/Gang/Bean/Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma tells Henry.  
> Regina suffers so much.
> 
> Warnings for explicit sexual abuse, see tags!!!
> 
> Read to the end...
> 
> Thoughts/past/nightmare in italics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your continued support and kudos.

Emma runs back to Granny’s with an overpowering dread her parents might have suddenly kidnapped or otherwise exiled Henry, for his continued loyalty to his mother. She heaves a huge sigh of relief when she spies him playing hide and seek with Ruby. 

_With the wolf? I thought you’d be smarter than that, kid!_

Emma observes her son behind the bar for several heart-breaking beats, Ruby feigning ignorance to his location, before she shatters his very existence with yet another shard to his heart. 

‘Kid!’ the blonde calls, his face lighting up and warming her to her very soul. Emma doesn’t return his enthusiasm, his eyes picking up on her discomfort within milliseconds; his unnerving gift of reading people, a by-product of being Regina's son. 

_Regina..._

‘What is it?’ Henry asks, his hazel eyes sharp, his brow furrowed. 

Emma eyes Ruby who takes her cue and swiftly leaves the diner. The Saviour kneels in front of her son, her heart beat drowning everything else out. She swallows dryly, her mouth parched and her nerves frayed. ‘Your moms not here, Henry.’ 

‘What?’ 

Emma inhales a steadying breath, pleading with herself to remain calm for the sake of her kid. ‘Your moms been banished to the Enchanted Forrest...’ 

‘Bean...’ Henry murmurs under his breath, his eyes suddenly alight with hope. 

‘Huh?’ Emma mumbles back, not understanding. 

‘Bean!’ he exclaims excitedly, his hands fumbling in his pockets. Finally, he retrieves a magic bean. ‘Ruby gave me this and said it would come in useful very soon,’ Henry reveals, looking at it in wonder. 

Emma stares at this first shred of hope in what seems an eternity. She looks into her son’s eyes. ‘Kid,’ she whispers, her hands on his arms. ‘Will you let me _save_ your mom?’ 

_Please Henry_ _!_

He hands her the bean without question. ‘I need my moms,’ he replies, melting Emma's heart once more. 

‘I’ll get her, Henry,’ the blonde vehemently promises, standing herself up and landing a kiss on his head. 

‘I know. You’re the Saviour, so go save her,’ he states firmly, his lips wobbling as his eyes convey a fierce resolve for his moms’ safe return. 

‘I will, kid. I promise,’ Emma kisses him once more, his little arms snaking around her midriff in a surprisingly strong embrace. 

Once Henry gains the reassurance he needs, Emma calls for Ruby. The pretty brunette appears within seconds. ‘Look after Henry. Don’t let _them_ _,_ _anyone_ , _near_ him!’ she orders; the werewolf turned waitress under no illusions to who Emma’s referring too. 

* * *

Once the beast has had his fill, he unties her and magics away the dentist style chair, causing Regina to fall two feet to the floor, jarring every atom within her broken form. 

‘Argh!’ she cries out, unable to silence the agony radiating through her. 

‘Enuff!’ the beast yells, kicking her squarely in the crotch, tearing another scream out of her. ‘Ya ordered ya men to rape tha’ poor woman!’ he bellows, kicking her a second time. ‘Ya _scum!_ Ya _worse_ than tha',’ he continues to roar, finally buttoning up his monstrous penis. _'_ _Dean?_ _Lads?’_ he calls, staring down at the fallen queen with a perverse leer. 

Regina no longer has the strength to think, let alone move or argue the truth, her mind and body so brutalised, she can hardly fathom what the oaf is threatening. 

Only once the other guards, _five_ of them, enter her tiny 6x5 cell, does Regina realise what the beast has in store for her. 

‘I thin' its abou' time I gave ya to my men,’ he laughs grotesquely as Dean charges forward, his lust _excruciating_ _ly_ evident as he pounces on Regina; the others forcibly spread eagling her on the dirty cobbles; meaty fists wrapping around her wrists and ankles. 

One word ricochets through Regina’s mind: a screaming yet silent _‘No’,_ as the men needlessly holding her down, tear at her breasts, her lips, her hair, her calves, her skin: _anything_ they can get their hands and mouths on, as Dean forces himself inside her utterly devastated vagina; the nameless guard from before straddling her shoulders and lining himself up with her mouth. 

_No!_

Their combined weight makes breathing impossible. 

Her mind enters the unenviable state of survival. Time, actions and emotions slow down as an all too familiar darkness encroaches on her vision and psyche. All conscious thought absconds from her mind as the haze looming at the periphery of her brain surges inward, obliterating all _hope_ her 835 century sentence is going to be quiet, calming, peaceful. Her _only_ companion: devastatingly heinous physical, emotional and sexual pain. 

_No._ _.._

* * *

Emma doesn’t even wait for Ruby to explain the rules as she races to the nearest lodging bedroom at the back of Granny’s and throws the bean into the corner, her vision blinded by the sudden bright light of the welcome vortex. 

The blonde thinks of Regina, the Enchanted Forest, the ‘Whatever goes cell’ moments before she jumps in without a second glance. 

Motion sickness momentarily curdles Emma’s gut before she lands with a bump on the floor of an eerily opulent room. Covering every wall space are tens of scrolls. She steps closer in an attempt to read the minute handwriting. 

_Lists_... the Saviour realises. _Lists of_ _names... N_ _ames... Regina’s victims.._ _._

Emma swallows thickly, realising this rooms purpose: to goad the rage of an already frenzied mob. 

_Shit!_

Next to the scrolls are pictures of the dead and, even more jarring, the same people alive with bright smiles; the faces _behind_ the names in life and in death. 

A cold sweat envelops her. 

_Fucking pictures!_ Emma gasps in disgust, shocked that her parents would _cho_ _os_ _e_ to enflame already guaranteed vengeance. 

Unable to stand this suffocating space any longer, Emma decides against her better judgement to follow the signs to the next room; before her conflicted mind overthrows her _need_ to save the Evil Queen. 

_I’m saving a murder._ _No_ _,_ Emma shakes her head. _I_ _’m saving_ _Henry’s mother._

The next room has a variety of option buttons from naked to clothed, injured to healed, guard assistance to none. These appear to be the _priority_ choices. 

**You shall not pass until you chose,** is embossed in tasteful red silk under these options. 

Several hundred torture devices and tools are on display, with further accompanying choice buttons, the most _disturbing_ being: tied down, strung up or no bindings. 

The Saviours hand flickers over the priority choices. She chooses two of the three without hesitation: clothed and no assistance. The healed or injured buttons are more complicated, simply for the fact Emma wishes to know _exactly_ how angry she should be with the townsfolk of Storybrooke, her parents; masquerading as kind, simple folk, yet within may lurk a monster. 

Emma finally makes her decision, hoping she won’t regret it as a hidden door suddenly creaks ajar. 

* * *

_‘N_ _o!_ _No! Dani!_ _’_ _Regina cries as she_ _tries to shake the love of her life awake, to no avail._

_‘_ _Oh,_ _you_ _silly_ _girl,’_ _Cora_ _admonishes coldly,_ _swishing her hand over_ _her oblivious daughter._

_Five_ _vines_ _abruptly lift_ _Regina_ _off t_ _he floor,_ _her clothes_ _magically torn from her body as she stifles a whimper under her_ _mother’s_ _hungry gaze._

_‘If you needed a woman’s touch,_ _why didn’t you just_ _come to me_ _?_ _’ Cora husks, appraising_ _her_ _daughter’s_ _bound nakedness with_ _an_ _expression Regina_ _loathes_ _most_ _: desire._ _An expression she’s seen more times than she wishes to admit._

_‘Now,_ _enough of this foolishness,’ Cora_ _whispers using her most patronising yet motherly tone,_ _her eyes travelling the length of her daughters’ delicious_ _form. '_ _You will marry the King_ _, and when I call on you, you will submit to me.’_

_Regina_ _lifts_ _her eyes to_ _stare at_ _the_ _devil herself, the person_ _who’s_ _tried to_ _destroy every_ _single ounce_ _of her spirit, h_ _er life._ _Cora meets her gaze, challenging her to_ _disobey. Disobedience always leads to... worse._

_Regina wisel_ _y_ _remains_ _closed lipped, though her eyes_ _tell of her inner turmoil and rage._

_Cora approaches her_ _bound_ _daughter. Regina has to_ _stop herself flinching w_ _hen_ _her_ _mother_ _splays_ _her right hand_ _over her bare abdomen._

Don’t! _Regina mind screams._

_‘_ _Such_ _spirit, even after_ _losing your love_ _,’ Cora_ _whisper_ _, the last word drip_ _ping with_ _something bordering on_ _jealous_ _disdain as she_ _leans_ _ev_ _er closer to her captive_ _offspring_ _._

_Regina tries not to look at her_ _Dani,_ _t_ _he only woman she’s ever loved,_ _broken on the stable floor._

_Cora grasps her daughters jaw, forcing her to meet her gaze. ‘So very_ _charming...’ her eyes travel along Regina’s collarbone to her breasts. ‘Yet so very rebellious and disobedient,’ she whispers, her lips nauseating close to her daughters._

Please! _Regina internally begs, knowing a_ _kiss precursors_ _the worst of punishments: penetration._

_Cora_ _abruptly_ _dominates_ _Regina’s_ _mouth,_ _the queen of hearts sick obsession with her daughter unknown to anyone but them; Regina imprisoned in an incestuous_ _clusterfuck_ _of her_ _own_ _dear mothers making._

_Regina tries to escape the_ _nauseating and_ _ravenous kiss, but her mother keeps her pinned,_ _Cora’s_ _nails biting into her cheek hollows to force her obedience._

_A hand snakes to her left breast,_ _squeezing and caressing her flesh as a moan_ _tears from Cora's lips, making Regina’s stomach_ _turn_ _for the umpteenth time._

_The abusive hand journeys downward. Regina tries in vain to shut her legs_ _but the vines hold her steady, as her mother’s fingers probe her folds._

No! 

_Cora continues to dine on_ _Regina's_ _mouth, her fingers_ _plunging_ _into_ _her_ _daughter’s_ _dryness_ _as she hitches up her own dress and begins rubbing_ _herself_ _against Regina’s splayed thigh..._

‘No! _NOOOOOOOO!’_ Regina screams into her tiny, suffocating, guard infested cell as her Judas awareness pulls her back to the heinacity of her latest rape, her first gang rape. 

The fallen queen suddenly chokes on a, until this moment, unidentified fluid dripping down the back of her throat, as a guard she’s never seen before ruts into her like a madman. 

Regina retches at the sight, the sensations, the pain. 

_Dani!_ _Please_ _..._ _help me!_ Regina’s mind pleads as yet another bastard oaf straddles her shoulders... 

‘Get the _fuck_ off her! _Now!’_ comes a fierce and decidedly female voice. 

_Dani?_


	10. Saviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Emma save Regina?
> 
> Warning for depictions of rape and threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments. They keep this writer writing!

A chill had rioted up Emma’s spine when she heard the unmistakeable sounds of sex: the guttural heaving and panting, the wet slap of scrotum riding against vagina. 

The sounds struck Emma as odd in a cell of punishment and vengeance. Only the nauseating sight that accompanied it, solidified Emma's worst fears. 

The blonde swallows the bile filing her throat, knowing to vomit in front of these _depraved_ _bastards_ would convey weakness. If Regina’s current state conveys one thing: physical weakness is exploited in the most heinous of ways. 

Emma grits her teeth; certain her heartbeat is perforating their eardrums. ‘Get the _fuck_ _off_ of her!’ she repeats, her voice firmer, her glare assured as the degenerate raping Regina’s face bellows a huge, shuddering moan; challenging her nerve. 

The biggest of them, who'd been rubbing himself raw, stands to his full height, his hand still slowly stroking his erection, his lustful eyes appraising Emma. 

‘Make us,’ he goads, his men finding renewed confidence to continue their sickness; frustratedly tearing at Regina's suddenly clothed body. 

‘Stop this _fucking_ instant or I’ll kill every _single_ one of you!’ Emma threatens, never more certain of anything in her life as the entire cell erupts with deep chortles and barrelling laughter. 

‘I fink this lil filly needs the rod taken outta her shapely arse!’ he jokes, his lust and rage battling for priority. 

His gang cheer at his threat, as Emma takes a step forward, drawing her line in this very delicate game; her teeth and fists clenched, her body rippling with angst. 

‘Ahh, a feisty one, like ‘er, my sweet cheeks,’ he admires sickeningly, tearing his carnal gaze from Emma to look down at the fallen queen; still pinned, spread eagled and penetrated. 

_‘Stop_ what you’re doing... _right now!’_

‘Jealous of ya friends’ attention, ey?’ he drawls, kneeling to palm Regina’s breast perversely. ‘Wan' some of this?’ He goads, sensing an opportunity to slake more of his lust. 

Emma's entire body shakes with such unbridled rage, she fears she’ll destroy the whole world with the searing heat of it. She lunges forward, surprised when the gargantuan beast backs up slightly, still assessing the risk level she poses. 

‘Well, I do love a woman with spunk... in ‘er,’ the bastard continues his sexual taunts as his sheep laugh along with him. 

He suddenly charges Emma, taking her by surprise; his inhumane size pinning her to the wall within seconds; his breath searing her nostrils. 

‘Though’ a lil charge would scare me?’ he chortles once more as his men appear conflicted; _desperate_ to continue raping the fallen queen, whilst also wanting to watch their leader deflower yet another tasty morsel. Their own urges win out. The two currently raping Regina, go back to their demented thrusts in search of further devastation. 

Emma’s body goes rigid under the beasts pawing hands; her eyes remaining peeled on those violating Regina. 

‘Regina! Reg...’ she yells, unable to control her mouth, her emotions, her body. 

‘Who are ya, blondie?’ the beast asks, surprised _anyone_ would use the Evil Queens given name. Emma’s skin crawls when he fists her hair to smell under her jaw. She claws his face savagely. 

‘You _worst_ nightmare,’ she retorts, her body feeling ready to explode; her soul dying recognising the faraway look in Regina’s eyes. 

A blinding white light suddenly omits from every pore of the blonde; a ravenous, _seething_ force so volcanically scorching, erupting through the cell at blistering speed, none of the bastard giants know what’s hit them before their bodies, their gargantuan girth, is incinerated to ash and dust. 

Emma tumbles to the cobbled floor, her body limp, exhausted and unconscious. 

Emma wakes. The cell is dark, quiet, seemingly empty compared to the suffocatingly acrid stench of body odour and stale breath billowing from numerous giants prior. 

The Saviour feels exhausted, boneless, but her sharp mind focuses on one entity. 

‘Madam M... _Regina!’_

_Move, dammit!_ Emma commands her rebellious limbs as her eyes take in the prone, semi-naked form of _her_ Madam Mayor; the mostly radiantly beautiful yet murderous enigma to ever walk the planet. 

The blonde slowly crawls to her quarry, millimetre by agonising millimetre; her face, hair and body becoming caked in something warm and gloopy. 

Emma ignores it, her one aim to reach _her_ Madam Mayor. 

_Please_ _be_ _breathi._.. Emma notices the slightest rise and fall of Regina’s chest, the only hopeful response to the blonde’s plea. ‘Madam...’ _Sh_ _e wants a human, not an enemy,_ _you_ _arsehole!_ The saviour self-chastises. ‘Regina,’ Emma whispers, wanting to touch her with every fibre of her being, but knowing, _knowing_ , not to. 

The urge to clean the red mist... the blood off of Regina’s skin is almost overpowering; the urge to shake her until she wakes, even more potent. Emma doesn’t need medical knowledge to recognise Regina’s mortally injured. Moving her, transporting her back to Storybrooke... _fucking_ _Storybrooke_ _..._ isn’t a possibility without killing her; the blonde having realised the choice room is one way. 

_Fuck!_

As though on cue, the brunette opens a glazed eye and stares directly at Emma. 

‘Regina, its...’ 

‘Dani?’ 

Emma would take ‘Idiot' right now if it means Regina lives. She feels something running down her face. It takes wiping her cheek to realise she’s crying. 

‘Regina, God... I... I’m so sorry...’ 

‘I... I’m... sorry... Dani... I’m sorry... I... couldn’t... save... you... I... I... lo...’ 

Emma’s dam bursts at the softness, love and devotion reaping forth from this once impenetrable woman; Regina’s words and emotions, solidifying what the Saviour already knew: _Evil isn’t born, it’s made._

A whoosh of air and pop sound makes Regina flinch subconsciously, her vain attempts to curl herself into a protective ball heart-breaking as agonising winces cross her pained features. 

‘I’ll protect you... Regina,’ Emma promises with everything in her as she leans against the wall to stand. _Look fierce, Swan!_

A blue/grey smoke fills a side of the tiny cell, before red plumes and brown tendrils take its place. 

‘Ruby?’ Emma whispers, conflicted; her relief and suspicion equally peeked at the werewolf’s intentions here. 

‘I mean the queen no harm, Emma. Look,’ she points behind the Saviour. Emma quirks her brow dangerously, warning Ruby that if this is a ruse to divert her attention, the blonde will _fight_ her. 

Emma eventually turns to look at Regina. Not only is she clothed (again) but cuts, abrasions, bruises and burns no longer litter her body. 

‘I knew you’d blaze in here without thinking about the return journey,’ Ruby tuts with a knowing smirk. Entirely _too_ knowing in Emma’s opinion. ‘I also knew you’d want to see how mad you had a right to be with your parents. So, I chose the _obvious_ buttons to make sure Regina will actually _survive_ the trip and brought along the one thing you forgot...’ 

‘Henry?’ Emma asks, aghast at the thought Ruby would subject her son to... _this!_

‘A bean, _Christ_ Emma! You really need to trust me more,’ Ruby retorts before fully taking in the bloody mess of the room. ‘What the _hell_ happened in here?’ 


	11. Indecision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma attempts to save Regina whilst controlling her own emotions. Ruby tries to help her.

‘No,’ Emma corrects Ruby. ‘Where’s Henry?’ her inner mama bear clawing to the surface.

‘I hid him in that room behind Regina's vault. The one she thinks no one knows about,’ Ruby answers immediately, understanding the Saviours concerns. ‘A werewolf knows,’ she adds, tapping her nose.

‘Granny won't...’

‘I covered my tracks.’

‘He’s alone?’ Emma asks, for further clarification.

Ruby pales slightly. ‘Yeah... Shou...’

‘No, it’s fine Rubes,’ Emma reassures her quickly. ‘Thanks for doing all this,’ she continues, nodding her head before psychologically re-entering the room; her eyes focusing on _her_ Madam Mayor.

‘What the _hell_ happened, Emma?’ Ruby repeats herself, sniffing the air. ‘Is this all her?’ she wonders, aghast that Regina’s still alive after such copious blood loss; the nauseating, metallic stench enough to override her ability to identify differing donors.

Emma ignores her. Instead, the blonde gingerly uses the wall to make her way back to Regina.

‘You okay?’ Ruby asks from her position at the cell door.

 _No, I’m not fucking okay! My fucking parents ordered the woman I... Regina to be abused and tortured to death! My son is alone in a fucked-up town! I somehow just obliterated six people! And the only thing I can think about is who the fuck is Dani/Danny, as I pray with everything in me that the poor soul was female, so giving me a chance with a psychologically damaged, adult version of Disney's fucking Evil Queen!_ Emma swallows the venomous retort with difficulty.

‘Not now,’ she replies gruffly, gritting her teeth; suddenly irritated by her friend’s presence as she eases herself down next to a clothed, conscious, yet devastatingly prone Madam Mayor.

‘It’s okay, Regina,’ Emma whispers soothingly, _drastically_ softening her tone. ‘You’re safe now. No one will hurt you...’ She leans closer, noticing the cuff. Emma instinctively goes to remove it. Only Ruby's sharp ‘No!’ stops her.

‘What?’ Emma snaps, her eyes fierce and unrelenting as they glare at Ruby.

‘She...’

 _‘Regina!’_ the blonde growls, a protective rage surging through her.

‘Regina...’ Ruby whispers, trying to calm Emma's anger. ‘... _killed hundreds_ of people because of a _grudge. Imagine_ what she'll do after... _this,’_ she tries to reason with the unpredictable Saviour.

‘She deserves choice after...’ Emma's voice trails off as her eyes return to the desolate form of the tortured mayor.

Regina's body is frozen, her trauma forcing her entire being into shock; the only tell she’s alive, the hardly discernible rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes remain two thirds open, her gaze unfocused yet unmoving as copious unrestrained tears rivet down her temples.

Never has Emma seen someone so broken, _even_ during her years in the system, _even_ during her darkest experiences.

‘She deserves _something_ after what they did to her...’ Emma sniffs, her eyes continuing to survey the once fierce and formidable woman now diminished to a husk of her former self.

Though her argument stands, Emma lowers the hand intent on ridding Regina of her magic ridding cuff.

Ruby breathes a heavy sigh of relief, inadvertently spooking Emma; the blonde having forgotten her friend’s presence as her mind floods with images of Regina being...

_... gang raped..._

Emma inhales sharply before attempting to swallow the bile threatening to invade her mouth. ‘We need to get her out of here,’ she states with absolute conviction.

Ruby turns to the blonde with wary eyes. ‘Where? She can’t exactly waltz back into Storybrooke.’

‘And _why_ is _that?’_ Emma asks weightily, her gaze slowly roaming the contours of Regina’s stricken face as Ruby blanches at the overt accusation. ‘You’re safe. I’ll protect you, from everyone. I promise. I'll...’

Ruby listens and watches the Saviours gentleness with the Evil Queen. It warms and irks her in equal measure. But even the seasoned werewolf is disturbed by the clear, yet quiet, distress decimating the mayors trauma'd soul.

‘What happened to her?’

‘Oh, you _don't_ know?’ Emma rounds on Ruby again. ‘Considering the _whole_ town had a quick-fire shit storm of a trial that condemned their mayor to unimaginable...’

‘I was there but I didn’t...’

‘Your presence was _enough!’_ Emma snaps, her entire body shaking with renewed rage. ‘What the _fuck,_ Ruby?!’ she growls viciously as she’s abruptly blinded by white light.

_Shit! Breathe!_

‘Emma? Emma?’ Ruby shouts from the doorway. ‘You okay?!’

Emma inhales several diaphragm stretching breaths, until her body no longer shakes and her sight returns. She swallows thickly before wiping her beading brow, coughing when a shaky whimper bursts from her lips. 

_Breath! Christ, you idiot!_ She self-chastises, mortified at the possibility of incinerating Regina and Ruby with her volcanic ire. _Shit! Breathe!_

‘What just happened?’ Ruby asks, concerned for Emma’s state of mind.

The blonde glares at Ruby, who remains by the cell door. _Is she that afraid of me?_ Emma hoped any Saviour magic would be less volatile and unpredictable.

‘Emma, you’re scaring me,’ Ruby admits, watching the Saviour inhale huge shuddering breaths on all fours.

‘Just... _don’t..._ make me... angry,’ Emma eventually grinds out, leaning on one knee as she wonders how to control her anger, how to keep Regina safe and who to trust, most of all herself. ‘We need to get out of here,’ she insists, sensing a strange aura reeking havoc on her... _magic._

Emma kneels beside Regina, wondering how and where to touch her without further traumatizing her. The blonde looks to Ruby before thinking better of it. The brunette senses her indecision.

‘You can trust me Emma.’

‘Like I could _trust_ my parents to protect Regina whilst Henry and I escaped awhile? Like I could _trust_ Storybrooke to not go all ape shit vigilante?’ the blonde closes her eyes to calm herself down. ‘For a lost girl with trust issues, this is the _ultimate_ clusterfuck.’

‘Will you at least let me help you get Regina back to Storybrooke?’ Ruby's asks, not even trying to argue Emma’s devastating viewpoint, knowing she and the townsfolk of Storybrooke are vengeful hypocrites at best.

The Saviour abruptly tears her eyes from _her_ Madam Mayor to stare at the willowy waitress. ‘You think she deserved this?’

Ruby wilts under Emma’s penetrating gaze. ‘I didn’t see her injuries before I...’ The blonde’s scowl deepens. ‘But I’ve _never_ seen Regina like this,’ she admits, looking over to the motionless queen. ‘It’s like... it’s like all her fire, passion and fierceness has left her...’ Ruby whispers.

‘It was _brutalised_ out of her,’ Emma hisses, clenching her teeth and fists as she again wonders how Regina will react when she attempts to lift her.

Emma leans over Regina; the closest she’s been since _her_ Madam Mayor mistook her for Dani. Regina's eyes try to focus on her face, blinking once then twice.

‘You’re safe Regina. You’re safe. I’m getting you out of here. You’ll be free soon...’ Emma speaks gently, ensuring she doesn’t spook the beautiful, yet traumatised, queen.

‘Dani?’ Regina husks, cautiously reaching for Emma's face.

 _Shit! Crap! Fuck...!_ the blonde internally screams moments before Regina's hand falls to the cobbled floor, the former queen and mayor falling unconscious once more.

‘Why don’t you tell her who...?’

‘Do you _really_ think she’d feel _safe_ with the _daughter_ of her arch...?’ Ruby waves away the rest of Emma's question, realising her error.

When she leans back over Regina to check she’s still breathing and unconscious, Emma notices the bizarre mark on _her_ Madam Mayor's palm.

‘What’s this?’ she asks the only other magical presence in the room.

Ruby finally steps into the cell, claustrophobia and the cloying smell of blood preventing her until now. She spies the wraith mark and backs away sharply.

‘What?’ Emma asks, alarmed by Ruby’s reaction. ‘Ruby?’

‘Bloody _Gold!’_

‘Huh?’

‘We need to get her to Gold, _now!’_

‘Not a chance!’ Emma barks vehemently. ‘Help me lift her before she wakes up.'


	12. Town line/Cora/Henry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Ruby attempt to safely teleport Regina to the town line.  
> Whilst unconscious, Regina's ordeal continues. 
> 
> Warnings for incest and obsessive behaviour.
> 
> Thoughts/past/nightmare in Italics

Emma feels strong enough to bat Ruby away when she tries to help her lift a surprisingly weightless Regina.

The blonde cradles the fallen queen in her arms as Ruby throws a bean into the corner of the cell.

‘Think outskirts of Storybrooke and _only_ the outskirts,’ Emma warns. ‘Landing anywhere else will end in murder,’ she breathes through gritted teeth as Ruby gives her a wary nod, believing the Saviours every word.

The vortex opens. Emma jumps without a backwards glance at the ‘Whatever goes cell,’ a hellhole of her _fucked up_ parent’s creation; a place made to break people, even the _seemingly unbreakable_ Madam Mayor, Regina Mills, Evil Queen.

Thankfully, Ruby’s overactive imagination remains in check through the portal, as the three women land in varying degrees of disarray, sprawled on top of each other, near the town line.

Emma immediately shoves the waitress aside to ensure Regina isn’t touched or pinned for longer than necessary. The blonde checks _her_ Madam Mayors still breathing, relieved when light breaths tickle the fingers under her nose.

 _Still unconscious. Probably for the best,_ Emma surmises gravely, wondering how the hell she'll explain herself _and_ succeed in making Regina feel safe, when she wakes and realises Emma's _not fucking_ Dani.

‘What now?’ Ruby asks, watching Emma assess Regina.

‘Can you get Henry and my bug? We're leaving this...’

‘Emma, you can’t...’

The blonde rounds on her friend. ‘And why not? There’s no way we’re staying in a place that champions torture and...’ Emma stops herself before she reveals the _exact_ trauma she walked in on. She swallows thickly, _disgusted_ with her parents, Storybrooke and everyone in it.

‘Regina tried to _kill_ you... _Almost_ killed Henry,’ Ruby splutters, aghast at the Saviours plan.

Emma stands and gestures for Ruby to follow her slightly away from their former mayor, to prevent Regina from waking to aggression.

‘Yes, she did. But I saw her reaction as soon as she realised Henry...’ Emma inhales a steadying breath, hating the fact she’s having to explain her actions... again. ‘Regina’s been more of a mother to him than I ever was. She _loves_ him. That much is clear. And if Regina has the capability to not only love a child, but raise him and raise him well, there’s got to be some good in there somewhere.’

Ruby gives Emma a look.

‘What?’

‘She’ll never love you Emma,’ she whispers, eyeing the fallen queen to check she’s still out cold. ‘Hoping she forgets her memories, stepping over the town line, huh?’

A blush floods the blondes features before she can prevent it. ‘That’s _not_ the endgame here,’ she retorts angrily, knowing her friend senses her bodies reaction to the brutalised queen.

‘Right, and bedding me was, huh?’ the waitress challenges without malice, causing Emma to bristle further.

The Saviour stands, her face like thunder as they both remember their unconscious audience.

‘Don’t worry, my heart didn’t attach itself to you after one intense fuck,’ Ruby assures her, though her clit trembles at the thought of the blonde taking her again.

Emma turns to Ruby; her Saviour mentality seeping guilt and shame into her psyche. ‘I’m sorry, Ruby. I just...’

‘Need to save the woman of your dreams. Warped and crazy maybe, but I get it. You can’t help who you love,’ the willowy brunette smiles sadly as Emma pulls her into her arms; the subtle undertone of Ruby’s words not lost on the blonde.

‘Thank you for being my only friend,’ she whispers as Ruby clutches her closer. ‘You have no _idea_ how much your loyalty means to me,’ she adds, struggling to keep the emotion from her voice.

‘And thank you for breaking the curse, saving everybody’s lives and giving me the _best_ night of my life,’ Ruby whispers into her ear. ‘You will forever be in my heart,’ she confesses, before she tears herself away from Emma's arms and swiftly makes her way into the soul of Storybrooke, without a backwards glance.

* * *

 _Once her mother is_ finally _done with her, Regina is released from the vines that forcibly splayed her. She crumples to the floor in an ungraceful heap that jars her entire frame._

 _Cora looks down at her now clothed daughter; her breaths gradually easing after many hours of dominant lovemaking._ Only _her daughter has ever awakened her to this level of carnal lust and ravenous need._ Only _her daughter has the allure to drive Cora insane with want, and crazy with an ever growing need to snuff out Regina's futile rebellions._

 _‘You are_ mine, _my darling,’ she whispers in her most disgusting, simpering voice, heavy with expended arousal. ‘It could have remained that way. You would have been_ enough,’ _Cora whispers regretfully, shaking her head with disappointment. ‘But_ this,’ _her scornful glare towards Dani makes Regina’s heart stop and her blood run cold, the jealous possessiveness lacing her mother’s tone soul destroying. ‘This is too much. Your constant rebellions require punishment. Your punishment is the King.’_

_Regina shoots Cora a mournful look. ‘She...?’_

Snow! _The straw that breaks the camel’s back. Regina’s body begins to shake with uncontrollable rage, shame and trauma._

 _‘Oh, my darling,_ never _trust a child. I know everything about you,’ she simpers perversely. Regina can’t help but shudder with revulsion at the unrelenting threat behind her mother’s soul-destroying obsession._

If my mother can rape me over my loves dead body, she’s capable of literally anything.

_Regina’s stomach lurches as numerous repulsive thoughts rebound in her head, as she instinctively keeps her eyes on her psychotic mother, even as every fibre in her being begs her to go to Dani._

_‘You and the King may think you’re his, but no...’ Cora draws closer again._

Don’t recoil! _Regina's mind roars as perspiration and shivers rivet down her spine._

 _Her mother clutches her jaw possessively. ‘You’re_ mine. _You always have been and you always will be_ my _Regina,’ she husks, making Regina freeze in terror at the possibility of round two. It had been known. ‘You came from me and you will come for me,’ she promises, knowing every single one of her daughter’s tricks after years of abuse. ‘Faking only makes things worse, my darling. You know this,’ Cora admonishes a shaking Regina as she realises, she’s been caught... again._

No!

* * *

Emma leans over a still unconscious Regina, watching a barely discernible frown continuously furrow the mayors otherwise peaceful features.

 _What’s going on in that stunning head of yours?_ The blonde wonders, having a sickening idea of the cause behind Regina's creasing brow.

_Do I touch her and awaken her to... me? Or do I allow whatever’s haunting her dreams to...?_

‘Ma!’

Emma's head snaps up at the welcome call of her gorgeous offspring. ‘Henry!’ she bellows back, opening her arms to him, whilst trying to hide the hauntingly still form of his mom behind her.

She watches Ruby climb out of the bug and lean against the trunk to give mothers and son some privacy.

‘What’s...?’ Henry stutters, belatedly noticing his mom behind his ma. He struggles out of Emma’s grasp and races to his moms’ side.

‘Don’t touch her, kid!’ she hollers, thankful when Henry stops short of throwing himself on top of Regina.

Emma races to his side as Henry gazes at his mom with conflicting urgency. ‘What’s wrong with mom, ma?’ If ever a sentence could hit the blondes head and heart in equal measure, it’s this one.

‘Your mom’s resting Henry. She’s been through a...’

‘I know mom tried to hurt you but please don’t be angry with her for what I did...’

‘I’m not angry with her, if you’re not. I promise you, kid. I’m not angry with her. She’s been through enough. But I want to stress that you did _nothing_ wrong,’ Emma states firmly, eyeing her son with unrelenting certainty.

‘Okay,’ he acquiesces, before turning back to his unconscious mom. ‘I’ll forgive her if she wakes up,’ he demands, his fingers inching towards her, _needing_ connection after three weeks of absence, emotion and fraction.

The tiniest gasp escapes Regina’s lips, drawing their attention.

‘Is she waking up?!’ Henry asks excitedly.

For some reason, Emma's gut clenches at the sound; the gasp seemingly torn from _her_ Madam Mayor. Another gasp, followed by a bite of the lip, causes Emma to make a potentially hazardous decision.

_This needs to stop._

‘Kid, I think it’s time we try to wake your mom up.’ Henry looks at Emma as though she’s offered him the moon.

‘You... sure?’ he asks, unsure, having never seen his mom look so vulnerable, so...

‘Go ahead kid. We need to at least give her the choice...’

‘Of what?’ queries her ever inquisitive son.

‘Of crossing the town line...’

Shock almost engulfs her when Henry smiles his biggest grin yet, nodding his head furiously as he moves to tap his moms’ shoulder, somehow knowing to touch her in an entirely ‘safe’ zone.

‘Emma!’ comes the voice the blonde least wants to hear.

 _‘Fuck!’_ Emma curses under her breath as she spies none other than Snow _fucking_ White and Prince _friggin'_ Charming running over the crest of the hill.


	13. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter you've been waiting for... and it's a long one!
> 
> You're welcome.
> 
> Happy Halloween 🎃

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos and comments keep this fiction going. Thank you so much and for allowing me to share my catharsis.

An unrivalled rage surges through Emma, collecting in her throat, chest, gut and fists; her _entire_ being shaking with the strength of it as her alleged parents’ approach at speed.

‘Kid...’ the blonde mumbles, clearing her throat to project her voice. ‘Kid, over the line... _now!’_ she commands, pointing her finger aggressively and unnecessarily, her eyes boring into his, daring him to challenge her.

Henry remains frozen, staring between his ma, his mom and his approaching grandparents with utter confusion.

‘Ruby... get Henry and Regina over the line...’ Emma demands instead, reading the understandable conflict in her sons’ eyes.

‘Don’t do _it,_ Ruby!’ Snow hollers unnecessarily, from less than five feet away.

The waitress ignores them both, keeping her back turned away from the Charming's and Emma; her werewolf hearing seemingly absent.

‘Ruby?!’ Emma yells forcefully, her gut knotting as she realises her friend won’t help her. Instead, the blonde grits her teeth and faces those who’ve become her ultimate foes; standing tall and widening her stance as much as she can to protect those she holds most dear.

‘What have you _done,_ Emma?’ Snow asks, her tone flabbergasted and accusatory.

Emma stares at the two people who have betrayed her most deeply, finding it impossible to answer her mother without spewing a fierce eruption of molten profanity, hell-bent on scorching and charring her parents to cinders.

The Saviour clenches her fists and closes her eyes in a vain attempt to quieten her seething rage. Her body feels overcome by something raw, all-encompassing and human: hauntingly brutal betrayal. Emma has felt something similar, in her darkest times. But this is different, and similar to the blinding fury that incinerated those depraved giants...

Emma bites her lip in one last ditch attempt to stop a massacre.

‘... _freed_ a murderer...! Your _grandfather’s_ murderer!’

Emma psychologically reengages to Snow shouting, yelling and spitting in her face. The blonde has an overwhelming need to _shut the damn bitch up._

Before she can think, Emma's closed fist connects forcefully with her mothers jaw, causing the Disney fake to crumple to the floor with a satisfying thud.

 _‘Ma!’_ Henry hollers from behind her, making Emma turn blindly to check on him.

 _‘Emma!’_ Ruby howls in unison with Henry.

This mistake costs her her balance, as David rugby tackles her to the ground, before attempting to pin her to the asphalt. Not being a stranger to such restraints, Emma quickly shoves a knee into her father’s groin, gaining her inevitable release as he curls into himself in agony.

Emma immediately gets up and braces herself for more, surprised when both Snow and David stay grounded. Disappointment floods her, her adrenaline just beginning to peak in preparation for a further assault.

With her physical prowess surplus to requirements, Emma's verbal attack threatens to ensue with relationship ending devastation.

 _Breathe... Not in front of Henry..._ she fights for some semblance of control.

‘Henry...’ she whispers joltingly, not trusting her voice at normal volume without totally losing it. ‘I _need_ you over the town line, right now,’ Emma continues through gritted teeth, praying the kid obeys her before the tidal wave of inevitable destruction obliterates Henry’s Disney versions of his not so Charming grandparents and sears the truth of his mother’s trauma into his 11-year-old brain, for life.

Henry stays put, sensing the danger but misunderstanding the true gravitas of his inaction.

‘So, help me Kid...’ Emma tries one final time, her back to him as she keeps her eyes trained on a steadily raising Snow and David.

‘Why would you hit your _mother,_ Emma?’ David asks in shock, though the uncertain undercurrent in his tone belies his stern retort.

Emma's entire body shakes with such scorching ire, the rest of her incredibly limited self-control deserts her.

She lunges at them.

‘Em...’

She lands a fierce punch to Snows left eye before David grabs hold of her wrists and wrenches them behind her back.

 _‘Emma!_ Have you lost your...?’

 _‘Ma!’_ Henry screams, his body finally acquiescing to his bidding as he sprints forward, his shoulder colliding with the back of Charming’s knee, surprising everyone present when the man falls backwards, due to the sweet connection.

Emma tears her wrists from David’s grasp, quickly capitalising on Henry’s surprise attack by punching Charming so hard, his head reverberates off the asphalt.

‘What...?’ Snow splutters, holding her jaw as her eye swells shut.

‘What?’ Emma asks breathlessly, _beside_ herself with rage. _‘WHAT?’_ she roars, once again invading Snow’s personal space.

‘Emma,’ Ruby finally involves herself just as the Saviour's about to take another swipe at her mother. The waitress muscles her willowy frame in between the warring women. ‘Emma, breathe. Calm the _hell_ down,’ she suggests softly, unwittingly stoking Emma's ire even more.

‘Calm down?’ the blonde goads aggressively. _‘Calm_ _down!?’_ she chuckles, as though the very notions absurd. ‘I... had to prize... five... _no six... rapin...’_ she belatedly remembers Henry. ‘Six guards _off_ of her!’ Emma yells, absolutely unable to contain her fury.

She shoves Ruby aside with one hand before grabbing the lapels of Snows shirt, yanking her fiercely. ‘I saw... first hand... the _atrocities you’re capable of...’_ the blonde seethes, her teeth gnashing as she eyeballs her monster of a mother. ‘You _dumped_ her in an anything goes cell, _without_ a proper trial... probably without letting her _argue_ her...’

‘She didn’t deserve...’ Snow begins, her eyes becoming saucers when a near animalistic growl bursts from Emma’s lips; the sound, the most obvious demand for the less than virginal white princess to _shut the fuck up!_

‘You left her defenceless... Left her to be beaten, tortured, _raped...’_ _Shit!_ Emma self-chastises, realising what she’s just shared, what her son no doubt heard.

‘Ma?’ he asks, diverting her attention instantly. Emma turns to him, his moist orbs searching hers, Ruby’s and his grandparents, for any signs of truth.

The blonde momentarily dampens her rage. _Henry needs you. Calm the fuck down!_ She approaches her son, who understandably backs away from her after observing such violence.

‘Kid... I’m sorry...’ she tries, kneeling a foot away from him. ‘You were never supposed to find out, especially not like this...’

‘She _deserved_ it, Henry,’ Snow snarls, unable to help herself. ‘You saw what she tried to do to your... to Emma. You felt what she did to you...’

 _‘Enough!’_ Emma whispers fiercely, her ire instantly reigniting at the woman’s gaol. She swallows it down before she terrifies her son further. ‘Henry...’ she husks, emotion catching in her throat at the scene unfolding in front of her eyes.

Henry's entire frame is trembling in shock, in emotional overwhelm; his face a wretched mess of distrust, fear and betrayal.

‘Your mom never tried to be perfect, she never shied away from who she was or what she did. But for the last 28 years, she didn’t kill a soul. She was reformin...’

‘No, she _just_ locked us in a never-ending groundhog day...’ Snow snipes.

Emma turns to face her. ‘In which you didn’t even realise what you were missing. She could have killed David. She could have forced one of you to remember... to add to your torment. But she _didn’t._ Why was that?’ she queries, _desperate_ to remain on safer topics to protect her kid.

‘She still took 28 years from us. 28 years we could have been raising and _loving_ you...’

Emma gets to her feet abruptly, causing Snow to step back markedly. The blonde can't deny the enjoyment that radiates through her at this clear sign of fear.

‘First, time stood still during the curse so Regina didn’t _actually_ take any time away from you. And who _exactly_ put me in that trunk, to fend for myself?’ the Saviour asks waspishly, stepping ever closer to her quietly fleeing mother.

‘But... we were told we could only fit one... and it... We had to protect you from...’

‘You did it to protect _yourselves!’_ Emma counters scathingly. ‘You weren’t thinking of me. You were thinking of saving yourselves from the curse at the cost of your own daughter,’ she continues, utterly unable to stop her diatribe now. ‘Since the curse broke, you’ve _never once_ asked me about my childhood, the first 28 years of my life. All you’ve kept mentioning is _you_ missing out on this, _you_ missing out on that... You _! You! YOU!’_ Emma barks in her face. ‘It’s always been about _fucking_ you!’ She pushes Snow backwards, causing her to fight to keep her balance.

 _‘Emma!’_ David admonishes in his aggravating, fatherly tone.

‘Don’t _‘Emma’_ me!’ she turns on him. ‘You’re as to blame... for _everything!’_ The blonde volleys at him, before shoving him much like she did Snow. ‘For _every_ sleepless night, for _every_ stranger I couldn’t trust, for _every_ friendship I couldn’t commit to, for _every_ house I couldn’t call home, for _every...’_ Emma bites her lip to stop herself flooding Henry's mind with further darkness that will forever change the way he views her.

The blonde lowers her gaze, avoiding the four pairs of eyes staring at her as she attempts to gain control of her heaving chests, her frayed nerves, her overwhelming fury.

 _Breathe!_ Emma swallows thickly, eventually removing the suffocating lump from her throat.

‘Your mom may be imperfect, but she’s the most real person among us,’ Emma whispers, finally trusting her emotions to remain mostly in check; wiping angrily at a lone tear that escapes her restraint. ‘That’s bravery. _That’s something_ to admire in this whole...’ Emma grasps at something that isn’t an expletive. ‘... thing.’ _Lame but will do!_ ‘Regina hasn’t murdered or tortured anybody for...’

‘Apart from _Belle_ who was _locked_ in a cell below our streets for _28 years!’_ bleats Snow, determined not to give up, even as her jaw cracks and her left eye swells to the size of a lemon.

‘Which I have no doubt resulted in this,’ Emma states with barely concealed anger as she gestures to the mark on Regina's open palm.

Jarringly, Snow giggles at this, before cradling her jaw at the sudden pain. Nauseatingly, David consoles her before she regains her _pathetic_ composure. ‘Only Gold would think of such a fitting punishment...’

Swallowing down her nausea, Emma senses an opportunity. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s a wraith mark,’ Snow reveals gloatingly.

 _Easy, Swan..._ the Saviour self regulates, until she has her answer at least. ‘What does it mean?’

‘Any number of things. But considering she’s unconscious, the wraith isn’t physically present and she’s been frowning since we got here, she’s either locked within her own body with no hope of escape, or the wraith is forcing her to relive her worst memories whenever she’s unconsci...’

Emma’s heard enough, correctly assuming the latter is Regina’s current state. ‘I see what Regina did to Belle as no worse than what you both did to me,’ she voices the argument she’s struggled to silence. ‘At least Belle had a roof over her head and I assume three meals a day, without any visitors who could...’ _Stop Swan!_ She only just pauses in time, again, conscious of the 11-year-old audience. ‘You _abandoned_ me to _save_ yourselves,’ she eyes them both with fiery disdain.

‘We did it so you could save us... _All_ of us,’ David whispers, his head bowed and his posture telling of his guilt.

‘Yet only Henry...’ Emma starts, looking over her shoulder, her heart breaking at the sight of her son leaning over his mom in a protective posture. ‘... had the nouce to find me.’

 _‘Only_ after I gave him the book,’ Snow argues, as though this is some sort of morbid competition and nothing more.

 _‘Shut up,_ Mary Margaret!’ Emma seethes, enjoying the sadness that erupts on her mother’s face at using her curse name.

‘I’ve had quite _enough_ of this!’ Snow steps forward, impatience and confusion now prominent on her features. ‘This _insanity_ needs to stop Emma!’

The blonde meets Snow's surge with one of her own, until they are breast to breast, their chests flush; neither giving an inch.

‘The _only_ insane thing about this is _you_ and _Charming...’_ Emma spits the name, laced in sarcasm. ‘... portraying wholesome, righteous and _perfect_ Disney characters, when you’re as evil as they come,’ Emma spits cuttingly. _‘At least_ the Evil Queen kinda lived up to her name, well, 28 years ago and very recently. But you... _you_ are the biggest surprise of them all and you know why, because you’re _rotten_ to the core. Feigning sweetness and light when it’s all about control and the _love_ of your adoring followers, blinded by your _perfect_ teeth and your _innocent_ eyes,’ Emma bats her eyelashes sassily, only just stopping herself from laughing when Snow tries to copy her; her mother’s left eye now swollen shut and engorged with fluid. ‘When all you’ve been doing is _selling_ her to your followers, to torture and abuse _however_ they see fit. And don’t _even_ try to deny the fact you made her immortal in there...’ she adds, her body continuing to shake with unused adrenaline. ‘So, you wouldn’t _even_ give her the reprieve of death, for however long you sentenced her to be down there!’

‘She _deserves_ every single...’

 _That does it._ Even after all Emma's said, her depraved mother _believes_ she had every right to repeatedly torture and break Regina, for all eternity. The mere thought brings tears to Emma's eyes and molten ire to her muscles and fists.

_The Saviour has been dormant long enough._

She charges her mother with a tsunami of crushing fury. David throws himself in front of her. Unable and not wanting to stop her forward momentum, Emma’s fists rain down on her father’s face and torso so violently, she feels his teeth shatter.

A muted scream behind her immediately draws her attention, pausing her grievous assault.

_Henry!_

She whips her head round at breakneck speed, in time to watch Snow grab hold of Regina in a death grip; her hands savagely throttling her.

‘Ma...!’ Henry screams, vainly pulling at Snow’s arms, as Emma gets off David and launches herself at her mother.

 _‘Die!_ Why won’t you just...?’ Emma interrupts

Just as she makes contact, the blonde realises _her_ Madam Mayor is not only awake but actively fighting for her life, clawing at Snows tightening fingers.

Emma forcefully tackles her mother, successfully dislodging her from Regina’s throat. They tumble several metres before the blonde inevitably gains the upper hand, her fists punching, her nails scratching, her palms slapping, her fingers pulling and tearing at the demon that is Snow White.

A sudden cry worthy of William Wallace punctuates the surrounding area as David, somehow still conscious and fighting, charges Emma.

Before she can turn to defend herself, a short grunt echoes through the air followed by the thud of David hitting the ground unconscious.

Emma’s eyes climb up the reason behind her father’s sudden condition: Madam Mayor, Regina Mills is not only still conscious, she is standing, her entire being burning with a rage only a true _survivor_ can possess.

Emma freezes under the spell of those scorching brown eyes for several moments, her head dizzying and her legs wobbling, before she snaps out of her trance.

 _Move Swan!_ Emma commands herself. She runs to Henry, clutching him to her fiercely before checking him, following his valiant attempt to stop Snow killing his mom. All the while, Regina stands motionless over Charming, over Emma and Henry, over a still horizontal Snow and a useless Ruby.

As soon as Emma’s checked him, she stands and glances at Regina cautiously. The confusion in the mayor’s eyes nearly kills her. As Regina threads her fingers through Henry’s hair, Emma realises their son is her _only_ anchor right now.

Emma calls Ruby, who escaped back to her spot near the bugs trunk. When the waitress doesn’t come, the blonde realises something. She’s broken Ruby’s heart. _A kiss in the real world is probably akin to marriage in fairy tale land. Sex is like proclaiming your love for your soulmate. Shit!_

Realising now is not the time, Emma focuses on Henry and _her_ Madam Mayor. ‘Madam Mayor, I’ll explain all this but first, I need you to get in the bug...’

Regina’s expression morphs to one of fear. It shatters Emma’s soul.

‘I’m not taking you back _there._ The opposite infact. You need to get out of here and away from these bastards!’

Regina steps back as though she’s been struck. ‘Is this a trick?’ she asks, abruptly searching around her for... something or someone. ‘What... happened here? And where... is...?’ she queries, her voice rising with each syllable, her fear and confusion palpable.

‘Madam... Regin...’

‘Mom...’ Henry interrupts her, his voice soft and only for his mom. Regina eyes her son as though seeing him for the first time, looking at her hand in his hair, clearly wondering how it got there.

‘Henry?’ she whispers, not daring to hope.

‘I’m here mom,’ he reassures her, standing up and wrapping his arms around her waist in a tight embrace.

 _‘Henry...?’_ Regina almost screeches, unable to fathom how the one person she knew she would _never_ see again is suddenly in her arms. She clutches him to her fiercely.

‘It’s me, mom,’ he comforts her as she moves to cradles his face in her hands, searching and submitting his features to memory in case he disappears.

‘Oh _God_ Henry!’ she finally allows a hint of belief to soothe her trauma'd soul. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m _so...’_ she mantras over and over again as she pulls him to her chest, never intending to let go.

‘I know mom,’ he murmurs into her chest. ‘I’m sorry too...’ Regina relinquishes her hold slightly, thinking she'd heard him wrong. She gazes into his gorgeous hazel eyes as tears begin to flow freely down their faces. ‘I’m sorry for thinking you’re evil. I’m sorry to being a... _difficult._ I should’ve been m-more grateful that you... raised me...’ Henry stutters through his tears, before pulling himself into her embrace once more.

Emma watches the intimate scene with tears flooding her features, her innate awkwardness forcing her to wonder where to place herself in this emotional reunion.

Eventually, a deep, rich, warm, yet exhausted voice makes her decision for her. ‘Miss Swan, wh... what happened...?’


	14. Mob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What other challenges are in store at the town line?  
> Can Emma convince Regina to leave Storybrooke?
> 
> Warnings for rape discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish to say a HUGE thank you for the 41 kudos you gave me last chapter. The 18 comments. Honestly, I find this quite overwhelming.
> 
> All I request is that you keep them comin'!
> 
> I've made some edits. I was tired when I wrote this and I didn't like some of the statements on a read back. Very subtle edits.

Dark, confused and haunted eyes penetrate Emma's soul as Regina hugs their son to her chest as though her very survival depends on it.

The blonde can only stare, slack jawed, crying and wordless as Regina looks at her in desperation, practically _pleading_ for some semblance of explanation to prove this nightmare is nothing more than a disturbing figment of her over stimulated imagination.

No words come. Emma is struck dumb by the magnitude of _her_ Madam Mayors question, by the fact _she_ of all people is being asked.

No words come. No words will _ever_ accurately portray what Emma can’t unsee, what Regina can’t unfeel.

And as the heinously painful truth dawns on Regina, Emma can only watch as the trauma slowly infiltrates every cell within the brunettes seemingly able, yet brutally abused mind, body and soul.

 _Dani was... She didn’t..._ Regina inhales a shuddering breath as the realisation Dani's rescue was a figment of her trauma'd... A fresh wave of grief abruptly envelopes her in a sandstorm of impenetrable desolation.

For several minutes, Emma and Henry can only watch helplessly as Regina’s once firm grip on their son weakens, as she slowly crumples to the asphalt; her heart breaking in echoes of the first time, as Dani's face materialises in her mind’s eye

Before she can question who actually saved her, new dawning’s take root, ensuring the desecration of her soul, forever.

 _That place... that cell... did exist..._ Her entire body shudders and trembles as she thinks of... _That beast and his... his henchman... really did..._ Regina swallows audibly before retching as disgust and shame overwhelm her. _Every visitor... That bastard Whale... Jefferson... Gold... my... my..._ Tears flood her cheeks as revolting sensations of powerlessness and arousal at her mother’s fingers, threaten to utterly consume her.

A keening whimper escapes her lips as Regina inhales several despairing breaths, pleading for, yet terrified of the encroaching darkness.

Only the cold, hard asphalt brings her back from the conflicting edge of suffering wakeful versus nightmarish trauma; devastating flashbacks of the past or flashbacks in ‘real time’.

Regina lifts her head, her chest heaving, her teeth gritted and eyes streaming blindly as she gulps several lungfuls of replenishing breath.

 _Snow!_ A renewed urgency radiates through her exhausted body, fuelling her fury and resolve as her eyes land on the person responsible for her desolation... _Snow heathen White!_

An animalistic growl bursts from her lips as she crawls to the psychopathic idiot causing her such excruciating agony. She straddles Snows unconscious body, intent on burning her face off with a point blank range fireball. Regina twists a clawed hand, aghast when her palm remains empty, cold and weightless after several attempts.

She hurriedly pulls at her pantsuit sleeves, quickly determining the cause of her failure. As soon as the mayor finds the cuff, she glares at Snow, then Emma; the fact the cuff is still restraining her and her magic, even outside of... that place, like a sucker punch to the gut.

‘Get this _off_ me... _now!’_ Regina barks furiously, eyeing the blonde Sheriff with seething disdain and unrivalled vengeance.

Emma finally unfreezes from her quietly shattering stupor. She steps forward, actively placing Henry behind her. ‘I don't know how Mada... Regina.’

The sardonic smirk that momentarily adorns the mayor’s features warms Emma’s heart.

 _All is not lost..._ she thinks with relief, seconds before the smirk wavers then disappears completely behind a wall of blank, expressionless numbness.

‘You have her blood...’ Regina voices in a monotone, as she gestures aggressively at the sickly-sweet urchin bitch beneath her. When Emma remains gormless, the brunette rolls her eyes which again gives the Saviour hope the old Regina Mills isn’t entirely... ‘I’m assuming _She_ put this moronic contraption on me, which means anyone with her blood can take it _off,’_ she states through gritted teeth, her need to utterly obliterate Snow _fucking_ White all encompassing.

‘Regina... I... I can’t do that until we cross the line...’ Emma stutters, as fire rages on in the mayors’ eyes, yet she’s unable to conceal the utter despair festering just below the surface.

‘What... line...?’ This one question conveys how discombobulated Regina truly is.

Emma points to it as Regina follows her finger.

Comprehension dawns once more. Regina raises her tear-stained face to meet the Saviours eyes. ‘Miss Swan,’ she whispers, trying to stop herself from shaking some sense into the woman. ‘I need to get this _goddamn thing_ off me!’ Regina stresses earnestly, tearing at it with all her might, yet helpless to remove the magic absorbing device.

‘Regina _please,’_ Emma raises an open palm hoping she’s adopting a non-threatening pose, inching towards _her_ Madam Mayor whilst subtly pushing Henry towards the bug. ‘Don't undo all the good work you’ve...’

Regina laughs mirthlessly. ‘Apart from attempting to end you and nearly killing Henry in the process...’

‘I understand why you did that...’

‘How could you...?’

‘Because Henry's the only person you love and you're desperate to protect him and keep him as close as you can,’ Emma says in a rush before the former queen interrupts her again.

Regina is struck dumb by the Saviour’s _painfully_ accurate insights. She remains straddled over an unconscious Snow White, her agonisingly trauma'd eyes flitting between her son and Miss Swan, sensing no tricks, no games, no mind fucks.

Just as Regina’s about to argue once more, a loud bellow from the direction of Storybrooke takes their attention. Regina's face pales as they spy a lynch mob, headed by Leroy, Whale and Granny, coming towards them.

 _No!_ Regina gets off Snow, frantically tearing at the cuff as the 30 strong mob descend. _‘Goddamnit!_ Get this thing _off_ me, _Swan!’_ she demands, running to the blonde and waving her wrist in her face. ‘Let me _defend_ myself, for _Christ’s_ sake!’ she near pleads, her eyes shining with desperation as the people responsible for her unlawful punish draw ever closer.

‘Emma...’ Ruby suddenly appears beside them, spooking both women with her light footed presence. ‘You can’t...’ she warns, sensing the Saviours weakening resolve to protect Regina’s judge and jury from her wrath.

‘Back _off_ Ruby,’ Emma barks derisively, glaring at the seemingly absent werewolf, until now.

By this time, Leroy, Whale, Granny, a very harried looking Archie and twenty other townsfolk are upon them.

‘Well, here’s a sight I never expected to see again: a standing Regina Mills. You look better on your knees,’ Whale drawls perversely, smirking when a discernible shudder radiates through the fallen queen without her consent. ‘Thanks Sheriff, we’ll take it from here,’ he says arrogantly, with numbers behind him.

Emma notices Regina’s uncharacteristic shudder, remembering the semen stain on Whales pants yesterday. Deciding she has enough evidence, Emma abruptly punches Whale squarely in the face, causing him and the entire mob to step back in shock at the Saviours actions.

 _‘Kid,’_ Emma hollers. ‘Over the line, _now!’_ she barks, sensing the precariousness of their situation as several of the dwarfs notice Snow lying prone on the road. Some go to her, others try to grab Regina, wrongly assuming she is the cause of their leader’s current state.

 _‘No!’_ Regina’s scream is so blood curdling, a shiver runs down Emma’s spine as she tears the little shits off her.

 _‘Don’t_ touch her!’ she demands, throwing Dopey aside as Leroy steps into Emma’s personal space.

‘What’s that, _Saviour?’_ he asks, his voice dripping with inebriated anger and inhibition.

Emma glares into his soul. ‘I said: _Don’t_ you _fucking touch her!’_ she yells in his face, hoping to hell her kid is over the line.

‘Or else _what?’_ Leroy goades her as Whale recovers, wiping his bleeding lip whilst eyeing Emma and Regina.

‘Yeah, or else what?’ Whale steps into their personal space, his smug arrogance making Regina twirl her wrist instinctively.

‘Come on, surely there’s a way we can sort this without viol...’ Archie begins.

The brunettes as shocked as everybody else when a crisp fireball materialises in her abruptly magical palm.

Regina looks at her earth shatteringly welcome fireball, the immediate relief and satisfaction resulting from her sudden, magical awakening, causing a rush of conflicting emotions to surge through her.

The entire mob withdraws in alarm, running in all directions as Regina aims for her primary target: Whale.

Emma stands motionless next to her, internally _cheering_ her Madam Mayor to do her worst, before she comes to her senses.

‘Regina...’ she whispers, surprised when the brunette glances at her. ‘I don’t know if Henry’s over the line. What will he think if you...?’

‘He’s over the line,’ Regina replies, irritated by the interruption, her most aching wish to burn Dr Preejaculate Whale to death.

‘How do you...?’

‘I have my magic. I can’t sense him,’ she responds again, this time her eyes remaining trained on her prey.

‘Regina...’ Emma says in warning as Regina grits her teeth and ignores her.

 _‘Emma!’_ yells the one voice Emma never wants to hear again. _‘Stop_ her!’

Regina seething ire abruptly segues from the retreating, rapist coward whose pants are already ablaze following a perfectly aimed fireball. The mayor focuses her full, magical ability on the evil form of Snow White. Her entire body shakes with rage as she eyes her intended victim with murderous intent.

‘Regina!’ Emma whispers harshly as the mayor begins to action firing her magical arsenal. The blonde watches in slow motion, as her own body surges forward, sensing impending danger approaching from their right.

Just as Regina fires at her nemesis, Emma makes full contact with her body, propelling them both to the asphalt, within inches of the town line.

 _‘Fuck!’_ Emma curses realising this as Regina throws her off forcefully.

‘Get _off_ me, you _infuriating_ idiot!’ she yells, moments before Ruby, David and Snow grab hold of her, momentarily overpowering her by knowingly triggering her trauma response – learned helplessness. Regina freezes under their combined weight as Emma rapidly gets to her feet.

 _‘Let_ her go!’ the blonde demands, her fists and teeth clenched in fury as she watches her parents and her supposed friend subdue a motionless Regina.

‘We can’t allow her to escape to _destroy_ everything and everyone in this world, and the next,’ Snow states pugnaciously, sounding every bit the _perfect princess_ as blood drips down her face and chin.

‘And I _won't_ allow you to continue to _abuse_ her under the guise of _lawful_ punishment!’ Emma counters, her frame poised to attack.

 _‘Emma!_ I know you have feelings for her but _Jesus!_ She’s a...’ Ruby argues pointedly, surprising Emma even more than her inaction earlier.

‘Why did you help me? In the cell? When you always intended to...’

‘Because I hoped you’d see sense and... and stay with me,’ Ruby replies honestly, causing Emma’s entire body to pulse with liquid molten rage.

‘Regina’s more human than any of you will _ever_ be!’ the blonde growls with overt disgust. ‘I _hate_ every _single_ one of you for what you’ve done and for thinking it’s _okay,’_ she continues, enraged by their projected innocence. ‘You're _torturing_ an unfairly tried woman!’ Emma volleys, unable to contain her anger.

'She admits she's killed people. What _more_ is there to say?' Snow counters as Ruby and David nod furiously in agreement. 

‘You're _worse_ than Regina _ever_ was! Atleast she killed her subjects. By making her immortal, you made sure Regina suffered _endless_ punishment at those bastard guards, and your own, hands! I wonder how many times she's been _'killed'_ in that cell, in the ten days she's been _missing!’_ Emma screams at them, feeling her body and mind being flooded by a force bigger than herself once again.

Snow gives her insult no mind. ‘We have to re-incarcerate her, to keep everybody _else_ safe. She’s a mass _murderer,’_ she retorts, unable to comprehend her only daughters behaviour. ‘The guards will keep her in che...’

‘The same guards I found _gang raping_ her when I went to save her? The same guards who sexually harassed me?’ Emma observes the subtle change in her parent’s smug demeanours. ‘The very same guards that are now dead?’

‘What?’ Snows already ashen face takes on a deathly hue.

‘It appears when I’m angry, my magic's unleashed in the most violent of ways,’ Emma teases, but only for moments as she realises the mob are surrounding them once more. ‘Why not go check out the ‘Whatever Goes Cell' _yourself!’_ she goads, no longer giving a _fuck_ now Henry's over the town line.

_Humans are safer than Disney characters!_

‘What the _hell_ have you done Emma?’ Snow scolds angrily.

‘I’ve sent six _raping beasts_ to hell, where they belong!’

The mob hadn’t heard Emma mention Regina’s gang rape earlier. Now, they hear their Saviour, loud and clear.

‘Snow, is this true?’ Archie asks, turning to the town martyr with conflicted eyes.

Snow doesn’t answer. Instead, she turns to the mob, leaving Regina in the arms of David and Ruby. ‘I _didn’t_ control those guards. I didn't _order_ them...’

‘Yes, you did,’ comes the forceful dulcet tones of none other than the former evil queen herself.

The mob segments into two groups: the psychopaths and those genuinely seeking lawful justice.

Emma, seeing an opportunity, takes it. ‘You ordered those _thugs_ to gang rape our Mayor Regina Mills for no other _reason_ than you _wanted_ her to _suffer!’_ The blonde inhales a steadying breath. ‘You call Regina a mass murderer, yet so am I. Does that mean you’ll exile me to the ‘whatever goes cell' where other thugs can _abuse_ me at will?’ Emma’s question hangs in the air like a pungent smell. _'And_ if you had to make Regina _immortal_ in order for her to _survive_ the _tortures_ you _inflicted_ on her, _surely_ that makes _you_ murderers too...'

At this very moment, Regina bellows, _‘Henry!_ Side of the road!’ hoping he can hear beyond the line as a huge fireball rips through the mob, a purple smoke enveloping Emma.

Regina magically deposits both herself and Emma into her suddenly present Mercedes, before stepping on the gas and roaring through the mob and across the town line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know several of you commented on Ruby's confusing behaviour last chapter. I hope I've explained it now. As Ruby lived in Fairy Tale Land, she believed in one life partner. She saw her encounter with Emma as making love, not sex. She wanted to mate with Emma, for life. Her werewolf roots had much to do with this also. During the curse, Regina purposely conveyed her as 'easy', the complete opposite to what she actually was. 
> 
> Also, I wonder who you think secretly removed Regina's cuff?


	15. Cocksucker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina and Emma have a heated, Season 1 SwanQueenesk moment.  
> Somebody stumbles over the line.
> 
> Warning for sexual slurs and torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was possibly the easiest chapter to write so far. I think you'll understand why. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your continued support. It means everything considering this is my personal journey.

Whether Henry heard Regina's warning or he had the foresight to move to the edge of the road, is unclear. Either way, both women heave a sigh of relief when they spot him on the grass verge, instead of under the chassis of the Merc.

He instantly races towards them with a huge smile on his face. Regina rushes to scoop him up in a fierce hug. ‘You’re safe now, my prince. You’re safe now,’ she chants into his hair as their mutual grip tightens still further.

Emma stays back in the car, watching her kid near constrict the life out of the woman whose raised him, _her_ Madam Mayor.

‘I love you, Mom,’ he whispers in Regina's ear, causing her chest to heave with overwhelming emotion.

‘And I love you, Henry. What did I do to deserve you?’ she asks softly, kneeling down to look into her son’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Henry,’ she apologises solemnly, her features imploring him to forgive her.

‘I forgave you the moment you drove Ma over the line,’ he says seriously, watching his mom struggle to maintain her poker face.

_That damned Swan!_

A relentless rage threatens to erupt from Regina’s very soul at the _supposed_ Saviours actions, or lack of. Her seeming authority to _forbid_ Regina from expending _at least_ the same level of force the blonde _allowed_ herself to...

The entire last five minutes.. _.No... the entire journey of my life..._ Regina corrects herself, feeling used, abused and abandoned by those _supposed_ to take care of her. _That_ _insufferable Saviour!_ her mind bellows as she wonders why she poofed Miss Swan out of danger, when all she did was keep Regina cuffed and helpless whilst the mob circled.

Her abrupt escape from the claustrophobic Mercedes was as much to flee the _suffocating_ hypocrisy of the blonde _idiot,_ as it was to feel her son in her arms again.

To calm herself, Regina inhales his apple shampoo and spice detergent.

_Home._

She knew it would only be a matter of time before her peace was shattered. Though the destroyer of said peace is not who she expected: a dishevelled Whale abruptly stumbles across the town line, frantically patting at the remains of his smoking crotch, before staring at her with blank, appreciative eyes.

Regina's entire body surges with renewed blinding fury. She quickly releases Henry before she accidentally crushes him to death. She pushes him back towards the relative safety of the car as she keeps her eyes trained on the man who ravaged her.

‘Regina,’ Emma calls from not far behind her; concerned that a suddenly, achingly non magical mayor will be easily overpowered by a physically stronger man.

The former queen ignores her and keeps on walking.

‘Regina!’ the blonde whispers, suddenly right beside the mayor, her hand abruptly grasping Regina's bicep. ‘Don’t do th...’

‘If you _don’t_ take your _Snow White infected mitts off me this instant,_ I won’t be held _responsible_ for _ripping_ you heart out, magic be _damned!’_ she snarls, _never_ more certain of anything in her life.

The two women stare each other down for several moments, neither moving in their silent battle of wills.

Eventually, Regina tears her arm from Emma's strong grip as her darkening eyes blaze with irrefutable rage.

‘Whatever _authority_ or _influence_ you _feel_ you may have over any of _my_ choices and decisions is _severely_ over inflated, Miss Swan,’ the former queen snarls in a low tone, outside of Henry’s hearing. ‘If you _ever_ touch me or _stop_ me from seeking vengeance again, I will _ensure_ you _suffer_ a slow, _painful_ demise. Do I make _myself_ clear?’ she whispers bitingly, her white teeth gnashing hungrily at the prospect.

Emma’s lungs constrict under her Madam Mayors words and scrutiny. _No, not my Madam Mayor... the Madam Mayor._ Emma suddenly realises what a complete possessive, controlling jackass she’s been since she saved Regina. Even the constant mentality of calling her _her_ Madam Mayor, as though the former queen would simply run into her arms as soon as she realised the Saviour rescued her. _She,_ Snow White and Prince Charming’s kin, forced Regina's continued helplessness even as the mob surrounded them.

_What a fucking creep, Swan! You’re no better than them..._

Abruptly disgusted with herself, Emma worries her lip, pondering whether to speak again. Surprised the former queen hasn’t yet walked away, she decides to risk taking advantage of potentially her last opportunity. ‘You don’t have magic,’ the blonde whispers almost shyly, her heart breaking at the prospect of these being the last words she will ever say to the formidable brunette.

‘I didn’t over the line either, _thanks to you!’_ Regina retorts scathingly, devastating Emma's heart more effectively than any other _ever_ could.

The Saviour abruptly fumbles with her Sheriff’s Office issue weapon.

Regina side steps as though she’s been struck. ‘At last, the _real_ Emma Swan shows herself,’ she bleats, actively shoving her chest against the muzzle; conflicted in _praying_ the blonde pulls the trigger whilst _wanting_ to live out her days with her son.

When Emma pulls her weapon back and away from Regina's heaving chest, the mayor isn’t sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

‘I... I meant...’ the blonde stutters awkwardly, her soul shattering at Regina's very wrong assumption Emma’s about to shoot her. ‘I... Have this,’ she blurts, thrusting the gun into Regina’s hands. ‘To protect yourself,’ she adds, eyeing the former queen weightily before turning and walking back to the car, her entire body rigid with regret and self-loathing.

Regina watches Miss Swan’s departure in a daze.

_Wake up! Your perverted, pre-ejaculating rapist is right there! You can deal with Miss Idiot Swan later!_

She walks towards a lost looking Whale; her deportment assured, calculated and purposeful; his glazed but thirsty gaze telling of his forgotten yet remaining perversity.

‘Well, if I haven’t seen a more beautiful sight,’ he breathes nauseatingly, smiling longingly.

‘Shut up, you _sonofabitch!’_ comes her heated response, her stomach churning at the realisation his _disgusting_ seed still resides _inside_ her.

‘Wha...?’ he asks, shocked by her venomous outburst. ‘What could I _possibly_ have done in the two seconds I’ve known you, lady?’ Whale retaliates, his lack of patience for anything female quickly rearing its head.

A mirthless laugh/sob escapes her lips as Regina’s mind and body remind her of his vile intentions, his _repulsive_ touch, his _depraved_ penis invading her mouth. She struggles to swallow her ready nausea as she pauses within striking distance of him.

Sensing her threat, Whale takes a cowardly step back, belatedly making the connection between his smoking privates and the vivacious minx stalking him; his fixated gaze eventually lowering to the gun in her hand.

‘You... _you_ d-did this?’ he stutters nervously, looking over to Emma and Henry with beseeching eyes.

Both car occupants keep their eyes facing forward, the windows shut and the sudden music, Chi Mai, blasting from the stereo.

‘Yes, I did,’ Regina agrees icily, wanting to confuse and terrify the hell out of her _gutless_ rapist.

When the former queen isn’t more forthcoming, Whale’s expression morphs from fearful agitation and lust to anger.

‘And why the _fuck_ would you do that?’ he challenges, taking a suddenly brave lunging step towards her. The satisfaction he hopes to gain from scaring her doesn’t come. Regina remains resolute, steadfast and determined; her body language and features demanding utter obedience.

‘What you’re fantasizing about is what you _actually_ did!’ Regina retorts cryptically, fully aware crossing the line won’t erase his character, just his memories. His eyes abruptly leave her lips to stare into her soul.

‘What the _fuck?!_ Are you _crazy?’_ he blusters arrogantly. ‘I think I’d remember doing that,’ he states so utterly grotesquely, not even _trying_ to hide his abusive fantasies, Regina takes the final few steps towards him and raises her weapon.

‘On your knees, _peasant,’_ she spits haughtily, aiming the gun between his eyes.

Whale has the gaol to smile his infuriatingly disgusting, smug grin. ‘Even crazy, I still would...’ he taunts, leering at her.

_You inbred imbecile!_

The gun fires and Whale crumples before either of them can blink; his already ruined pants instantly stained crimson. Regina enjoys the immensely satisfying yelps that keen from Whale's abruptly distraught face.

‘I don’t ask twice,’ she warns belatedly, her actions speaking clearly of her intentions to _harm_ this man. Whale can only whimper pitifully as she feeds off his agony. ‘Now take out your penis and sandwich it between your hands,’ the former queen orders harshly, as her rapist cries out in sheer terror.

 _‘Please! Please! Whatever I did, I’m sorry... Please!’_ Whale begs, instantly acquiescing to her bidding, now _painfully_ aware this enigmatic beauty is about to execute him.

Another shot assures his agonising answer. Regina aimed straight through both his hands and penis.

A blood curdling cry echoes between the trees as Whale hunches forward in shock, his useless hands fumbling and flailing to grasp his amputated member.

Regina sighs with something nearing relief, knowing in her heart and soul _nothing_ will remedy the carnage his actions alone have caused.

The former queen squats, more gracefully than a swan, in front of him; her internal struggles hidden behind a beguilingly satisfied grin. She uses a tissue to pick up his useless appendage and proceeds to thrust it into his mouth during a particularly harrowing yell.

‘Who’s the _cocksucker_ now, Doctor?’ Regina taunts assuredly, before straightening and walking back to her car without a backwards glance; leaving him to bleed out alone.


	16. Driver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Regina allow Emma to be a passenger on her journey?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support. Let me know what you think.

Regina gets into the car; its eerily quiet after the blasting gun shots and classical music. Where there were excruciating screams of agony, now there are only occasional whimpers as Whale's strength slowly vacates his body.

The former queen sits near motionless behind the wheel; her hands shaking, her chest heaving and her eyes downcast, taking in the cold, steel blackness of the weapon in her lap.

_Like my soul..._

Emma and Henry remain surprisingly silent as Regina eventually raises her shimmering gaze to the rear-view mirror; braving the judgement, horror and disappointment no doubt shadowing her sons face.

Shock numbs Regina’s rioting adrenaline when she finds mournful, compassionate eyes staring back; an expression far too mature for his years.

_I put... that look there..._

‘I’m sorry Henry,’ Regina begins, her voice raspy. She clears her throat self-consciously. ‘I promise I will never...’

‘He hurt you,’ he says in a small, determined voice; his insight enough to make the former queen grab the steering wheel fiercely, to anchor herself before she risks losing her sanity.

_Breathe... Breathe Regina... Godammit, just breathe!_

Her entire body trembles as she closes her eyes for several moments, inhaling steadying breaths in her desperation for equilibrium; the lump in her throat near impossible to swallow.

_Yes, the bastard did... But... way to go teaching your son a master class in murder when..._

Only when a hand materialises on the steering wheel beside hers, respectfully slow moving, heeding her earlier warning but close enough to convey comfort, does she remember Miss Swan is not only in the vehicle but sat in the passenger seat next to her.

Regina jumps slightly at the sudden intrusion, even though the blondes advance had been gentle. Emma immediately withdraws her hand, fearing rejection or worse, triggering her.

Regina sighs as she looks back down at the gun in her lap, avoiding the Saviours concerned gaze as she loosens her savage grip on the steering wheel.

It’s only then she realises her crush injury, the multiple bruises on her wrists, even the wraith mark, are gone. She flexes her hands, testing their suppleness as she basks in the achingly welcome phenomena of pain free motion.

Emma’s heart breaks noticing the awe on _her..._ on the mayor’s face. If their relationship wasn’t so delicate, the blonde would have been tempted to call Regina's last few actions cute.

_Cute? No. No, Regina would not like that!_

Regina repositions herself in the seat, testing her pelvic injuries, releasing the softest of sobs when she realises this action is also painless. She then moves the seat back, mindful of Henry sat partially behind her in the middle seat, to stretch out her legs. The former queen sighs again before finally giving Miss Swan her full attention.

‘Who healed me?’

The phrasing alone conveys how untrusting the mayor is of Emma’s intentions, even if she suspects...

‘Ruby,’ Miss Swan answers honestly, realising lying now to win present glory isn’t worth the inevitable, future angst and trauma.

The answer is so left field, Regina instantly believes her. Though further questions flood her mind as quickly.

_Why would Ruby...?_

_How did you know?_

_Were you there?_

_In what capacity were you there?_

_Were you one of...?_

_Why wouldn’t you take the cuff off me?_

_Why did you defend me?_

_Why did you stop that hellion throttling me?_

_Why were you punching Uncharming?_

_Were you... Dani?_

_Did you rescue me?_

_And if so, why?_

_I tried to kill you. I almost killed our son. You have every reason to detest me. You surely would be my torturer and executioner, over my... saviour..._

_And why did you give me your gun?_

_Why?_

_Why godamnit? Why?_

These silently, screaming thoughts remain hidden behind Regina's exhausted exterior, as her gaze fixates on the weapon.

Then another thought strikes her: _What was it Ruby said about Miss Swan...? That she has feelings for...?_

 _No..._ Regina entire body instinctively tenses.

Any and _all_ feelings ever felt for her centred around rabid lust, selfish intent and/or complete and utter disregard for Regina as a human being. Her only use: a vessel for another’s deviant perversions.

_Until Henry... Did he hear everything or did Miss Swan have the foresight too...?_

_Did I hear Chi Mai?_

Regina side eyes her passenger.

_Is she safe?_

_Is the alleged Saviour dangerous?_

_Is she trying to play me?_

_Will she hurt me?_

_Does she plan to hurt me?_

Regina looks at the weapon still in her lap, wondering what the hell to do with it.

_Do I give it back?_

_Will I leave myself open to further torture?_

_What the fuck do I do?_

Emma watches the former queen ponder silently for several minutes. Henry remains respectfully quiet in the back seat, observing both his moms with intrigue and ever-growing impatience. The blonde can feel it emanating off him, by the near continuous knee jerking into the back of her seat and the lip smacking that precursors a verbal utterance.

 _Don’t kid!_ she warns silently, never wanting their shared genes to be more in sync.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, Regina glances at Miss Swan, her lips working similarly to Henry’s. ‘I have questions,’ is all she utters. The simplest of statements, with a heartbreakingly heinous core.

‘I know,’ Emma replies gently, the interior of the car charged with such fragile energy, the occupance are at risk of snapping, with untold consequences. ‘But first, please can you decide whether you’re going to shoot me, kick me out of the car or step on the gas because we don’t know when someone else might stumble...’

Something in this refreshingly insightful and honest statement nudges Regina to a, until this moment unknown, decision. She puts the still loaded weapon in the console between them, before starting the ignition, stepping on the gas and leaving Storybrooke in a cloud of smoke and blood.

Hours pass without a single word, a single note, a single tune.

Eventually Henry is rocked to sleep by the smooth motion of the Mercedes.

Emma has to admit the bug wouldn’t have been as comfortable. Even so, she gut aches slightly at the notion she’ll never see it again.

She glances at Regina, still slightly incredulous that one, the former queen allowed her to come on this journey at all, especially considering how possessive she is of Henry. Two, that said queen hasn’t killed her already. And three, that aforementioned queen is not only watching out for the next subtle direction signalled by Emma’s hand, but she is actually heeding them; _each_ and _every_ one of them without question.

Beyond this bizarre truce, the blonde keeps a close eye on Regina’s wilting energy; the fierce mayor’s exhaustion palpable.

Knowing Regina to be a woman of particular, rogue stubbornness, Emma decides to use the ailing gas supply as a means for a rest stop. She signals to the next gas station, causing an untrusting former queen to check the dial herself, before turning in.

The mayor parks and makes to get out of her car.

‘Regina,’ the Saviour murmurs, the sound of her voice, any voice, surprising the brunette enough to turn to her. ‘Let me get the gas. You have some rest, whilst I get some supplies. Huh?’

The former queen bats her jaded eyes in an attempt to appear alert, before anger replaces her exhaustion. ‘Don’t _mother_ me, Miss Swan. And your idea of supplies is _significantly_ inferior to mine,’ she retorts heatedly, not a hint of amusement in her tone.

Emma positively shrivels under the mayors seething gaze. She puts her hands up in silent resignation as she watches Regina open the door before sensibility hits her.

_Damn it!_

‘Do you have any money?’ The self-constructed, magical town of Storybrooke meant the former queen never _wanted_ for something as trivial as dollar bills.

Regina bristles when a knowing smile plants itself squarely on Miss Swans lips. She makes a show of digging into her pockets before retrieving several hundred dollars from her red jacket.

Regina takes the bills but instead of leaving, she leans in close. Emma thinks it’s to show some level of gratitude. How very wrong she is.

‘For your information, you won’t _ever own_ me,’ she snarls quietly, knocking the air out of Miss Swan's gloating lungs. ‘This doesn’t mean you’ve _bought_ me,’ she reaffirms before leaving the vehicle in a determined flourish, leaving Emma mute and blinking, aghast, in her wake.

Whilst the blonde continues to mull over how achingly damaged _her... the_ mayor is, her eyes remain peeled on the fierce yet fragile enigma, as she goes about their business.

Only when Regina’s walking back to the car, does Emma focus her gaze on a minute speck of dust on her jeans, in a lame attempt to deflect from her almost peeping tom worthy monitoring of the brunette’s progress through the store.

Regina places her spoils in the trunk before getting back into the driver’s seat and lobbing several food items into Emma’s lap.

‘For the rest of the journey,’ she supplies unnecessarily, looking at a still sleeping Henry, before checking her mirrors and leaving the forecourt.

With her eyes steady on the road, Regina shocks Miss Swan for the umpteenth time. ‘I don’t know why but I feel the need to apologise for the way I acted earlier, when you gave me your money,’ she whispers so quietly, Emma would have missed it if she hadn’t been side eyeing her.

The Saviour grabs on to this unforeseen win with both hands, _desperately_ trying to keep her sudden glee in check. ‘And I’m sorry for not taking the cuff off yo...’

‘Baby steps, Miss Swan,’ the former queen interrupts, silencing the belated apology; her hands suddenly vicelike around the steering wheel. ‘And please refrain from staring at me,’ Regina adds, instantly making Emma wish her seat would swallow her.

 _Fuck!_


	17. Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do Regina, Emma and Henry reach their destination?  
> Where are they headed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your continued support. Feel its tailed off just slightly but alot of people were asking for the healing to start. It's very important to me to write this slow, tumultuous process. Regina isn't anywhere near out of the woods.  
> Thank you for continuing to read this.
> 
> P.s. I rushed to get this published before bed, so sorry if there are any glaring mistakes.

The silence of the car makes Emma’s skin crawl; her hunger pangs painful and increasing in ferocity. But she's loath to open the freshly cut apple packet in case she unleashes more of Regina’s wrath.

 _You must be so hungry,_ she ponders silently, comparing the nine hours since she last ate to Regina’s probable days.

For her part, the former queen stares steadfastly ahead, drilling into the last vestiges of her concentration as exhaustion, memory and trauma rapidly encroach on the last of her dwindling reserves.

The intermittent snuffles from the back seat are the only reprieve in this seemingly never-ending silence.

Eventually, Emma's stomach wins out. She opens the packet as deftly as a hammer pistoning a drum set.

Regina inevitably stiffens at the abrupt interruption to her necessary focus. She glances at the blonde, a withering look of impatience and irritation adorning her features. ‘You _eat_ like a peasant child,’ she ridicules harshly, before turning back to the swimming road; her vision finally beginning to fail her.

‘And you judge like a trooper,’ Miss Swan volleys back, forgetting herself for several seconds and immersing naturally back into their customary spats.

She almost chokes on her last apple segment when a whisper of a smile ghosts Regina’s lips. This expression alone makes Emma wish she could read the mayor’s unpredictable mind and be the cause of further such responses.

‘How much longer?’ Regina asks, masking her true reason for asking behind the innocuous query.

‘Ten minutes,’ Emma supplies, coughing slightly with continued surprise.

‘And you couldn’t wait...?’ Regina wonders aloud, spoiling for another verbal spat, to keep her awake, distracted, both.

‘It was the apples or Henry,’ Miss Swan quips back, trying to keep the mood light, whilst mindfully helping the former queen reach their destination with their precious cargo intact; the brunettes exhaustion heart breaking. But the Saviour knows _not_ to suggest she drive. She just _knows._

‘I’m amazed you want to eat them after...’ Regina’s face darkens, her grip tightening on the steering wheel once more.

Emma feels the change in mood. She desperately tries to rescue it. ‘Only because they were in a packet,’ she begins, glancing briefly to judge the mayor’s reaction. Deeming it sufficiently calm, Miss Swan decides to risk continuing. ‘And I checked the seams for tampering!’

This earns Emma another ghost of a smile before Regina shakes her head to refocus. ‘Where to now?’ she prompts, as they stop at a red light.

‘Turn right at the next junction. Then it’s some 200 yards up on the left.’

‘And what is _it?’_ the former queen asks sharply, her nerves kicking into gear, _loathing_ the unknown more than anything.

‘My apartment,’ Miss Swan answers immediately, sensing Regina’s heightened anxiety. ‘I didn’t realise how long I’d be in Storybrooke, so I kept it. Just in case,’ Emma supplies, correctly deducing information calms her.

‘Quite sensible for an idiot,’ Regina retorts with minimal bite.

The Saviour leans into the leather, sighing quietly as warmth floods her.

_She doesn’t entirely hate me._

Emma signals the last left before gesturing for Regina to park in the first available space.

 _‘On_ road parking?’ the former queen queries with obvious distaste.

Emma can’t help but chuckle at this. One thing she’s always loved... _liked_ (ahem) about the fierce brunette: her brutally unapologetic honesty and giving _zero_ fucks about it. ‘Welcome to Boston living, baby!’

‘Call me _‘Baby’_ again and I’ll turn you into one!’ Regina counters icily.

 _Shit!_ The blonde self-chastises, her elation achingly temporary, even though both women know the threat is currently impossible.

Emma remains silent to avoid another acidic response as Regina eventually shuts off the engine after struggling with parallel parking; something the former queen obviously has little experience with.

Miss Swan opens her door to get out but stops when she notices the tension radiating off of the mayor’s rigid form.

The Saviour bites her lip before proceeding with extreme caution. _Give her the facts. Set the scene._ ‘My apartment is through those doors, at the top of four flights of stairs. The elevator was broken last I checked...’ Emma pauses before checking herself. _Positive facts, Jesus!_ ‘It has space, comfort and hot water,’ she finally says, settling on the safety of practicality.

 _Hot water,_ the former queen’s mind repeats, dreaming of the sensation of scolding water burning away every... _Don’t!_

Before she triggers herself, Regina shakes her head, releases her deathly grip on the steering wheel, and opens the door.

 _Breathe,_ she commands, expecting her mind alone to defeat her inner demons; realising how _foolish_ a notion it truly is.

Again, before she's swept down the suffocating river of forever flowing trauma, the brunette opens the back door and focuses on her anchor, her solace, her prince.

Regina scoops him up into her arms and follows a waiting Emma, who decides against unloading the trunk in favour of getting her son and _her... for fucks sake... the_ Madam Mayor inside; the former queens nerves electrifying the Bostonian air.

Regina dutifully follows; Henry safely wrapped in her arms, his legs semi gripping to her waist.

The four flights of stairs to Miss Swan’s apartment, with a 12-year-old bundle and days of sleepless, harrowing trauma, cause Regina’s vision to blur, her limbs to shake and her chest to heave with the effort.

Emma gestures for Henry half way up but the former queen remains steadfast, replying with a waspish: ‘I was a _single_ mom for _nearly_ 11 years. I _think_ I can _manage_ some steps.’

Even though the retort stings, the blonde takes some reprieve from Regina admitting Emma's station in Henry’s life, if not her value.

Emma unlocks the door and gestures for the mayor to enter with their mutual bundle first.

As soon as Regina spies the conch, she gently lays a sleeping Henry across it, before kneeling in front of him in a vain attempt to hide her nausea and light headedness.

The blonde reads the sheer exhaustion in the slightly hunched over posture of the normally, immaculately deported queen. Realising pointing this out could be a death wish, Emma busies herself looking through the cupboards and finding some in-date coffee. She quickly loads up the coffee machine and breathes in the smell of the granules to distract herself from the enigmatic presence, less than two feet behind her. A presence that should ignite rage for nearly killing her kid, but somehow only breeds empathy... and...

 _How the hell am I going to sleep with Regina fucking Mills in my apartment?!_ Emma’s mind hollers before she corrects herself. _First world problems, Swan! Get over yourself._

She turns back to the couch and watches Regina softly trace Henry’s features with her index finger.

Feeling like a voyeur, Emma goes to her bedroom... _Shit, only one bed..._ and retrieves some towels and a change of clothes for Regina. The blonde will need to go shopping for something new for the kid to wear.

On her return, Regina is actively assessing the apartment, trying every window and searching every cupboard. Just before the Saviour challenges her behaviour, the former queen ducks into the bathroom, then the bedroom with the same vehemence.

‘We can’t stay here,’ she eventually concludes, having found the apartment to be below adequate requirements.

Having stationed herself with a steaming cup of glorious coffee in the kitchen, to await the mayors return, Emma nearly spits her mouth full out. ‘What?!’ she queries, perplexed.

‘There’s _only one_ bed, _one_ bathroom, _one_ couch... The list goes on...’ Regina states, her anxiety growing by the second.

Miss Swan gives a pointed glare towards Henry before gesturing to the bathroom.

_The bedrooms too... just no._

Regina surprises her again by following her into the relatively spacious bathroom.

 _For Henry,_ they both silently acknowledge as Emma turns to face her Madam Mayor.

‘I _can’t...’_ Regina starts, her eyes darting left and right, her expression haunted, her body shaking and perspiring.

 _I can’t... breathe..._ Regina panics, abruptly running for the apartment door. ‘I... _need..._ to get _out..._ of here...’ she whispers as she frantically tries the door knob. When it doesn’t budge, her anxiety and panic galvanise, threatening to lure her into the darkest depths of her soul, once again.

_Breath! Jesus... Let me... She locked... me... in!_

‘Turn the handle clockwise,’ Miss Swan suggests, knowing trying to tame a woman as wild as Regina would be as crushing and dangerous as domesticating a mothering panther.

_Keep her wild._

Innately, the mayor actions the suggestion and gains freedom. Two things occur to her at once: Regina realises Snow White’s spawn _hasn’t_ locked her in. And said idiot has also _given_ her the 'key' to escape.

This knowledge, and the reality that she could and can flee, douses some of the anxiety rioting through her.

_What the hell are you doing? Henry!_

Regina abruptly shuts the door and proceeds to crouch in front of it, in hopes of regaining her breath; her nails digging into the woodchip.

Miss Swan sits on the floor where she stood, two metres from the heart-breaking figure huddled and silently crying against her door.

‘Regina,’ she whispers, keeping her voice gentle but firm. ‘Open your eyes for me. I’m sat two metres down the hall. I’m nowhere near you and I don’t intend to come any closer,’ she affirms, astonished when the former queen meets her gaze. ‘Okay, now can you pick out three things you can see,’ Emma requests, ensuring Regina maintains her autonomy whilst trying to help her out of this current clusterfuck. ‘You don’t need to tell me what they are but focus on them, really _look_ at them; their shape, consistency and use.’

The blonde blushes slightly when she realises the Madam Mayor has picked her as one of them. An entirely inappropriate warmth migrates to her centre before she can stop it.

_For fucks... Control yourself Swan! You have ten million ways of fucking this up and only one chance at making it right..._

To interrupt her mortifying segue, Emma opens her mouth again. ‘Now focus on two things you can hear and allow these sounds to...’

Miss Swan's voice dulls to background noise as Regina focuses on Henry's sleepy snuffles. She hasn’t heard him sleeping since he was 8, quickly deciding a mother shouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed as a 9-year-old, even when such visits were due to sickness. The former queen would always give him the bed, and place Huggy, a monstrously big teddy bear in the bed with him, whilst she slept on the floor.

To prevent an exploration of the reasons behind this, Regina decides for better or worse, to focus on the idiots breathing, now she had finally shut up.

_In... one, two, three, four... out... five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve... in... one, two..._

Miraculously, the blonde stays quiet, seemingly aware this technique is calming the brunette.

An unknown amount of time passes before Regina finally sees Miss Swan, where she said she would be; her vision, muscles and breathing filtering through the dead weight of darkness looming overhead.

Once her nerves are calmed to near normal levels, the former queens normal at least, the Saviour stands and turns back to the kitchen without a word; again, correctly deducing Regina needs silence, space and time.

When she eventually hears the latch setting, without the accompanying noise of the door opening, Emma smiles a small grin of victory.

_Madam Mayors staying for now at least._

The next thing she hears, the sound of the shower turning on. Relief envelopes her entire frame, besides her bladder that has been begging for release for the last four hours. Emma will take the discomfort, quickly searching for the towels and clothes that she laid out on the back of the couch, finding them gone.

A huge wave of gratitude surges through her, even if Regina understandably craves some semblance of clean, that the former queen feels safe, or _desperate_ enough, to shower under the same roof as one Miss Emma Swan, the spawn of satan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all kudos/comments are very much appreciated 😁


	18. Showered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina tries to wash away her demons.  
> Emma and Henry have a little chat.
> 
> Warning for acute trauma aftermath description and self-harm mention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. Sorry for the delay. I wished to do this chapter justice (hope you all approve), and life got in the way. 
> 
> Thank you for the incredible 45 kudos and gorgeous comments last chapter. 
> 
> Let me know what you think...

Regina stands fully clothed under the scolding spray; the volcanic liquid quickly immersing her pantsuit and bare feet; her patent stilettos, the only garment saved from the deluge of water and tears.

The thought of being naked, of being _physically_ bare, repulses and terrifies her. The idea that any number of past or recent rapists could burst in and continue where they...

 _Don’t!_ the former queen swallows thickly, nauseated.

The idea of anyone, most of all herself, _seeing_ her body...

_You’re disgusting..._

Leaning her forehead and palms against the cool tiles, sobs wrack her externally uninjured frame. The fact her body is outwardly clean and unbroken, besides the light bruising where Snow White tried to strangle her post healing, jars every synapse within her splintering psyche.

Desolate, Regina wonders whether being healed was her preferred outcome. The former queen knows with absolute certainty, she would have died porting back from the _fucking_ Enchanted Forest to the _as fucked_ Storybrooke.

Images of every binding, every lingering, unwanted touch, every sickening caress, every mouth, every lick, every bite, every suck, every smoothing kiss, every heinous penetration, _every_ assault flashes before her eyes, shattering every fibre of her being before settling in the pit of her stomach, causing her to hurriedly open the shower slider door, determinedly aiming for the handily positioned toilet. But she’s not fast enough, forcing her to vomit at her feet to avoid messing the floor.

_You dirty, revolting little peasant!_

Regina’s involuntary nausea and self-disgust are made that much worse when she notices a strange milky substance in amongst the bile.

_Semen..._

The former queen vomits again, on cue.

As she watches the evidence flow down the plug hole, she tries _desperately_ not to be dragged along with it.

 _Breathe..._ Her harsh inhale unintentionally makes her gag as the oxygen irritates the back of her throat. _Slow... breathe... slowly..._ Regina attempts to control her continued urge to heave by closing her eyes, only to leave herself vulnerable to debilitating flashbacks of two giants...

The former queen immediately opens her eyes, snapping her head back sharply as though actively recoiling from the assaults; her world abruptly upending, almost making her lose balance. The shower tiles save her. Though she instantly recoils from this contact.

 _Jesus Christ, Regina!_ She self-chastises, clenching her hands and jaw in outward defiance of her trauma. _Think of something else... Anything... The idiot!_

Regina only has to look at Miss Swan to realise everything torturing her mind _did_ actually happen, if the washed away stomach contents wasn’t evidence enough. The thin film of blood coating the blonde is irrefutable proof. Having smelt the metallic iron scent more times than she's willing to admit, until the _ridiculously_ one-sided trial at least, its unmistakable.

 _This_ is the reason the former queen wouldn’t allow Satan’s spawn to waltz into the store, raising eyebrows before they’d so much as escaped Storybrooke. But the mayor has yet to query the Sheriffs appearance because it seems she is herself unaware of it, or at least unaffected.

 _Why...? How...?_ Regina asks herself silently as a mortifyingly involuntary clit twitch echoes recent caresses inflicted in her nightmares. _Mother..._ Her stomach lurches in innate response, its contents now seemingly evacuated with nothing to replenish it.

Minutes pass before she trusts herself to stand upright, though her belly constricts painfully, aching from hunger and constant heaves.

The former queen isn’t given time to dissect the reasoning behind her body’s abrupt arousal, before light headedness and more depraved flashbacks crash down on her, vying for her wavering attention.

 _Godammmit!_ She seethes internally, refusing to open her mouth in case her stomach decides to lurch once more. Even breathing, the light flow of air down the back of her throat, leaves her achingly nauseated as memories of her mother’s last assault, of utilising _every_ tactic in her _sadistic_ arsenal to awaken Regina’s arousal; to coax a moan, a gasp, a whimper as her fingers slowly stroked her bound daughter to shattering climax; to convey to her beautiful offspring, who _truly_ owned her body.

Inevitably, more dry heaves follow.

In a fit of rage and excruciating disgust, Regina tears at her pantsuit, her skin, her body with destructive intent; her nails aggressively clawing at her suddenly exposed flesh, causing deepening scratches, welts and legions; turning the shower basin crimson.

Having learnt early on to suffer in silence, every sob, every tear, every harmful action is made in utter silence. Only her involuntary retching has the slightest chance of passing through the door. Regina suddenly stares at it, uncertain. _The notion that Henry..._

_Henry..._

Complete, overriding shame instantly infiltrates every fibre of her being; _horrified_ her son may _see_ her self-inflicted injuries.

 _What the hell are you doing, you... idiot!?_ Having always attributed this nickname to the Uncharmings, Regina realises with crushing clarity that she has just let them win another victory.

Abruptly livid, she’s certain Snow _fucking_ White would be watching this very scene with disturbing interest; a gleeful smile adorning her moronically smug face.

 _Breathe... She doesn’t know you’re doing this... She doesn’t know..._ her psyche reassures her slightly.

 _But you’re still hurting yourself..._ Regina’s traitorous mind instantly contradicts her reassurances.

 _Fuck!_ The former queen slams her palm against the wall, inadvertently knocking the shower gel bottle off the shelf. She catches it before it hits the shower basin and becomes, in her opinion, tainted by her and the bastard giant’s bodily fluids.

Suddenly, insanely pleased with herself for catching it, Regina squirts gel onto a clean enough looking sponge... _Anything’s cleaner than me..._ and proceeds to scrub herself raw.

Emma hears every wretch, sob and thud from the other side of the door, her fist poised yet frozen in a pre-knocking pose, nervous of the reactions a check in may cause. She saw with her own eyes how far Regina was violated. So, she hesitates, her knuckles millimetres from the door.

A movement in the next room takes her attention.

_Kid._

She makes her way to him, as much to avoid knocking on the door and making the wrong decision in doing so, as being a reassuring presence as he wakes up.

Henry knows her apartment. After all, he travelled all the way here, from Maine, to find her: _The Saviour._ Emma shakes her head at the thought... _Some Saviour..._

The blonde brought him here after she broke the curse; after she realised Regina had accidentally poisoned him.

 _‘Shit!’_ Emma whispers under her breath, shaking her head and gritting her teeth.

She wonders what the outcome would have been if she _had_ eaten the apple turnover, as intended. Perhaps, Henry would still be where he grew up, Regina wouldn’t have been brutalised and her parents would’ve experienced the torture of ‘losing’ their daughter for a second time. That outcome suddenly doesn’t seem so bad.

‘Ma?’ Emma’s thankfully torn from her revelry.

‘Hey kid,’ she smiles warmly, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair. ‘How’d you sleep?’

Henry rubs his eyes before freezing, gauging his mom’s appearance. ‘I... I thought it was all a dream until... until I saw... this...’ he stutters as he wipes at the red liquid covering her arm.

_Fuck...! Think, Swan... think!_

‘Well, you’re right, I need a shower...’ she tries to joke. Unsurprisingly, no smile comes. _Lame and awkward. Good job, Swan!_ ‘You _do_ deserve an explanation...’

‘Where’s mom?’ Henry interrupts, looking around him, his anxiety palpable.

‘Your mom’s in the shower,’ Emma immediately reassures him, whilst actively trying not to touch him further.

The relief settling his features hits her full force. _You really do love her, kid. Like I..._

‘Can I sit next to you?’ she asks, to interrupt her unhelpful segue.

He nods immediately. Emma settles herself close enough to be comforting but far enough away to avoid infecting him with the giant’s bodily fluids... again.

‘Okay, you know when I slayed that dragon to break the curse?’ She watches him nod silently; his gaze transfixed. ‘Well, I had to slay some other monsters to help your mom...’

‘You saved mom from those monsters who were... er... raping her?’

_Oh, Jesus fuck and all that is Holy... You only have yourself to blame, Swan. You mentioned it in front of your own kid! You idiot! Of course, he’s going to pick up on it!_

‘I helped your mom,’ Emma partially answers, desperately trying to get off the subject of...

Henry abruptly jumps on her, squeezing his arms tightly around her middle, no longer caring about the sticky substance covering his ma. ‘You saved her,’ he mumbles into her collar bone as Emma hugs him back as fiercely; comfort meaning a _thousand_ times more than decency in this moment. ‘You _saved_ her from Nana and Pap! You _are_ the Saviour. You _are!’_

Tears form in the previously tough Sheriffs eyes as she attempts to push the sights, sounds and smells of the last few hours aside, so she can immerse herself in a simple yet priceless embrace with her son, her kid, her Henry. ‘I’m _so_ sorry you had to see all that,’ Emma sniffs, nuzzling his hair as crushing guilt, that her son was exposed to such violence and brutal truths, threatens to consume her. ‘I love you, Henry.’

‘I love you too, Ma.’


	19. Pinned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina begins to realise how emotionally trapped she is.  
> Emma struggles with how to handle the Madam Mayor.
> 
> Warnings for past sexual abuse, emotional turmoil, PTSD, hopelessness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read my work. This will eventually get easier but it's important that this is more true to life than most 'fictions' 
> 
> Please take note of the warnings!!
> 
> And Merry Christmas everybody.

Emma's tight muscles eventually relax into the embrace, though her ears remain focused on the continued flow of the shower, the barely detectable, hushed sobs peppering each inhale, inside the bathroom. (The blonde developed acute hearing after years of surviving the foster system.)

Every fibre of her being clutches Henry, to convey her love for him, for _her_... for Regina. A tear escapes her as she nuzzles her face into his shoulder, breathing in his scent to control her emotions before they consume her, pummelling her with images of _the_ Madam Mayor being...

‘What’s raping, Ma?’

_Fucking shit balls!_

Mentally and physically exhausted, Regina’s legs gave up some time ago. She lays in the shower basin, her forehead against the tiles as tears mingle freely with the cold water.

Her body shivers though the former queen remains ignorant to the freezing temperature; her eyelids dead weights, her muscles uselessly inert, her mind darkening to an almost welcome abyss...

The chilling scream travels through Emma’s synapses more forcefully than lightening. She feels Henry stiffen almost as swiftly.

The blonde releases him, to stop herself squeezing him to death as her adrenaline continues to spike at the now eerie silence. ‘I need you to go into the bedroom and stay there, okay kid?’ she whispers hushly.

The slight frown of worry between his eyes nearly breaks her. _Please Henry..._ she begs soundlessly, aware of his inquisitive nature.

‘Okay,’ he finally whispers, sensing the gravitas of the situation.

Another soul destroying shriek pierces Emma’s heart as she instinctively covers Henry's ears, staring into his fearful eyes. ‘It’s okay Henry, you’re moms safe here,’ she tries to reassure him, having little confidence in her ability to do so. ‘She’s just working through some stuff, okay?’ she continues, keeping her voice steady when all she wants to do is _demand_ he go to her bedroom and _stay_ there, so she can find out what the _fuck_ is happening to the woman she... ‘I know you have questions. I know a lot’s happened today and I’m _so_ proud of how you’ve handled everything,’ Emma soothes. ‘I just need you to be brave for a little while longer,’ she cups his face shakily, before withdrawing her hand to hide her frayed nerves. ‘There’s some headphones and a sound system in there. I give you permission to turn it on as loud as you want, this _one_ time. Okay kid?’ _Please Henry!_

The not so little star squeezes her trembling fingers before completely untangling himself and stalking to the blondes bedroom in search of this sound system; his intelligent eyes conveying a wary understanding beyond his years.

Emma inhales a steadying breath as soon as Henry's out of sight, wondering how the _hell_ she’ll broach the wildcat that is Regina Madam Mayor Mills.

_Fucking Christ, Swan! Why did you make that wish a year ago?!_

The Sheriff hurries to the worryingly quiet bathroom door, running a hand through her blonde locks before she clears her throat, _praying_ her belo.... _the_ Madam Mayor is alive.

_Fuck!_

_Ummm... To knock or not to knock before spe...?_

‘Regina?’ Emma's voice cracks with nerves. She swallows thickly to clear her voice box. ‘Regina?’

Silence.

_Fuckity...!_

‘Regina?’

_I should’ve removed my shaver... I should’ve removed the bleach... You fucking idiot, Swa...!_

Emma forcibly knocks this time, her teeth clenched within an inch of cracking as her nerves threaten to overwhelm her with guilt, at the realisation she may find the Madam Mayor....

‘Regina, I’m not here to ask if you’re alright because I know you’re not,’ Emma starts, having no clue where she’s going with this. ‘I’m... I won't walk in without your permission. But I need to know if you’re hurt...’

Nothing.

‘Regina, please,’ the blonde tries, loathing the begging timber in her voice. ‘ _Please_.’

‘As if _you_ care!’ comes the feeble yet reassuring retort.

Emma leans her palms against the door for balance, her head lulling between her arms as she exhales with soul shattering relief. Though another part of her battles with the mayors words.

_I care. I care so fucking much!_

Pride, sadness and anger riot through the blonde at the former queens words and how she, Emma, silenced her own _desperate_ counter.

_Not now, Swan. Think about her, you asshole!_

‘Regina,’ Emma grinds her teeth, clocking her angsty tone. ‘I beat up my own parents after...’ _Shit! Stop talking, you idiot!_

Regina listens from the other side of the door, sat with her back against it, a towel firmly wrapped around her; _loathe_ to admit Emma's voice grounded her after she woke from a particularly nasty re-encounter with Leo.

The realisation that crossing the line hasn’t nullified the wraiths cruelty, is enough to cause immeasurable anguish and despair.

_Fuck Leo! Fuck Gold! Fuck everybod..._

_After...?_

_After... what?_

_Did you see...?_

_Did you watch...?_

_Did you participate...?_

Regina buries her head in her crossed forearms, as she desperately tries to scrub the many questions, the many untold horrors from her minds eye.

 _Godammit!_ The former queen sighs, aggressively running a hand through her wet hair; her psyche aching with an exhaustion her body _should_ mirror.

Regina hasn’t eaten or drank in days, even though Ruby's... _Why Ruby?..._ healing eased both slightly. Her hunger and dehydration alone would make most mere mortals waver. Yet the mayor holds herself to higher standards: Fierce pride and poise befitting a queen.

‘Regina,’ she hears the idiot murmur through the door. Regina ignores her, choosing instead to close her eyes and lean further into her arms...

_She’s pinned; utterly, helplessly pinned. She knows this feeling well, having been tied up or bound for her mothers pleasure, from an early age. But this fact doesn’t ever make the sensation any easier. Especially when she’s being held down by three ravenous oafs... the beast watching, masturbating...as two others take turns..._

Another scream drags Regina back to consciousness; the ferocity of her anguish rebounding off the tiles in a deafening crescendo of heinous torment, as she leans over to dry heave.

Once certain no further retches are imminent, the former queen cradles her head, gradually realising sleep is outside her grasp... that healing will _never_ come.

 _‘Jesus!’_ she whispers brokenly, acknowledging Gold’s prescribed torture _will_ kill her; slow, agonising and inescapable.

_Pure Gold._

Regina admires him... slightly.

_The bastard imp’s outdone himself, and me._

He’s pinned her with the _ultimate_ spell: a complete inability to sleep, to heal, to regroup, without experiencing real-life flashbacks – Gold’s one aim: eventual, emotional desecration.

Regina sniffs in a futile attempt to reign in her rioting emotions. The idea that Henry, that the blonde idiot, have seen her, _heard_ her like this...

She immediately kicks herself for giving a _flying_ _fuck_ what Miss Swan thinks.

_But Henry..._

_I love you, my little prince..._


	20. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma tries to coax Regina out of the bathroom. An argument ensues. 
> 
> Warnings for inadvertent self harm and continued mental anguish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your continued support. It means the world.
> 
> Wishing you are a healthy, safe and fruitful 2021 ❤

‘Are you hurt?’ the idiot repeats her moronic question.

 _Is that a joke?_ Regina retorts silently, forcing her mind to refocus on the one joyous thing in her life.

‘Where’s Henry?’ her voice croaky with emotion; emotion she prays the door swallows before Miss Swan notices it.

‘He's in... my room, listening to the sound system, with headphones on. I don’t wanna know how loud he’s got it!’ she tries levity, having previously found it to fleetingly amuse the Madam Mayor.

Regina ignores the abysmal attempt at humour. ‘He can’t see me like this,’ she utters to herself.

‘Like what?’ Miss Swan overhears, leaving Regina seething that she verbalised her inner shame.

_Godammit, Regina! Don’t give her an inch!_

The former queen has had enough of this _tediously_ boring conversation. Instead, she rubs her pulsing temples, trying to ease the throb persisting there.

‘Regina?’ comes the idiots thick tones once more.

‘What do I have to do for you to _leave_ me _alone,_ Swan?!’ the former queen sighs in frustration, leaning her head against the bathroom door, her exhausted eyes gazing up at the ceiling, exasperated.

Emma calms ever so slightly hearing this very Regina-esk retort. Having the energy to be irritated, suggests the mayor isn’t entirely unreachable.

 _And she called me Swan..._ An involuntary warmth blossoms...

‘You said you have questions,’ the sheriff begins carefully, blindly trying to read the former queen whilst interrupting her own wayward thoughts. ‘With Henry distracted, I thought you might want to take this opportunity to ask me them.’

‘Ha!’ Regina scoffs mirthlessly before regretting it, her cranium threatening to explode. She strokes her temples in vain hope the pain fades.

_Hope...? I’ve spent too much time with a Charming..._

‘You expect me to believe _anything_ _you_ say?’

Miss Swan’s silence speaks volumes.

Then: ‘If I was a threat, or in _cahoots_ with my mother, why was I _so_ angry with her... them...? Why did I beat them up? Why did I help you escape that _fuc...’ Wrong word choice, Swan!... ‘that_ cell...?’ The blonde challenges without taking a breath. ‘Why am I _still_ here? When I _could’ve_ abandoned you and _taken_ Henry back to _that_ hellhole?’ Emma's tone conveying _her_ frustration for the first time.

This time, Regina’s struck dumb by the idiots sudden vehemence.

_Why...? Why are you so angry? What gives you the right, Godammit?! You weren’t imprisoned, tortured, mindfucked and..._

The former queens attempting to swallow her rioting nausea when she notices her knuckle is bleeding, from absentmindedly punching the sink trunk. She stares at her most recent injury with little emotion. No pain comes; only warmth omits from the wound, calming the struggling mayor.

Regina pads the wound with her uninjured hand, rubbing her blood between thumb and forefinger, before raising the digit to her lips and licking the thickening plasma.

_I’m alive... real..._

She lifts her head as though to _see_ the bathroom for the first time.

 _Shower... sink... toilet... gel... mat... towel... mirror... that’s not directed towards me thank God! Hush... Concentrate...! Skin... scratches..._ The former queen winces at this, gently running a finger over her puckered flesh. _Warmth... oxygen... beating... heart beating... breathing... working... alive..._

‘Regina?’

Miss Swan’s voice shatters her attempted mindfulness; another tool suggested by the spineless cricket.

‘Leave me _alone,_ Swan!’

 _There it is again... Swan,_ Emma notes almost goofily, ridiculously happy with her sudden nick name, though ‘Miss Swan’ will _always_ make her thighs qui... _Inappropriate, Swan!_

Hours later, Regina’s stubborn resolve finally gives way to wellbeing. This notion isn’t lost on her as she uncrosses her legs and uses the door knob to lever herself up off the floor, her joints stiff from lack of movement and the cold tiles.

When the expected agony doesn’t come, she remembers Ruby...

_Why?_

Regina’s abrupt need to know why the mutt healed her, makes her regret not taking the idiots offer sooner.

Eventually trusting her legs to hold her weight, Regina releases her death grip on the door handle. She splays her hands out, in case she loses her balance, but finds this unnecessary after two purposeful steps.

Belatedly, she realises the towel covering her modesty has unravelled during her shaky ascent, leaving her naked and exposed. The former queen gasps with regret, accidentally spying herself in the mirror before she lowers her gaze in shame.

Trying to erase the self imposed scratches and skin crawling fetidness from her memory, Regina quickly grabs the clothes Miss Swan seemingly left for her.

After swiftly covering herself, she braves glancing at her reflection once more, surprised to find the jeans snug yet airy and the black polo neck oversized.

_Perfect to hide my disgusting body._

Regina opens the bathroom door, only now realising the locks broken.

_Miss Swan could have come in at any..._

She warily gazes into the small hallway, finding the idiot asleep on the sofa, and Henry conked out on the _one_ bed.

The sight of her son fills her with heart stirring relief, having not believed Miss Swan's outburst earlier. If the roles were reversed, Regina knows she would have run off with him.

Rewarding herself with his presence alone for now, the mayor heads towards the fancy chair obviously made for fashion over comfort... _Kudos, Miss Swan,_ she thinks wryly, having always thought the idiot sheriff was tomboy peasant material.

Even though its difficult to walk away from Henry, Regina doesn’t wish to wake her no doubt exhausted son, or expose him to... _this_... whilst she feels so raw and discombobulated.

Though, the former queen chooses this anything but comfortable chair to give herself an unadulterated view of her sleeping prince. That’s the compromise.

Just as she plants herself in _this_ chair, a change in Miss Swan's breathing signals she’s no longer alone in a sleeping world. Her quiet elation at this fact is both surprising and unnerving.

‘You’re a light sleeper,’ Regina whispers as Emma sits up, rubbing her eyes.

‘Foster system,’ the blonde idiot replies groggily, unthinking, before she clamps her mouth shut. _Shit!_

Reading the uncertainty in Miss Swan's expression, the former queen decides to get to the point. ‘You left.’

‘You asked me to,’ Emma responds, her eyes instantly drawn to Regina’s knuckle before she looks away sharply, so as not to further alienate the wildcat sat so regally in front of her.

The sheriffs answer is a foreign concept for the dazed brunette. ‘Charming’s _never_ obey me.’

‘I’m _no_ Charming. I’m a Swan,’ Emma states with obvious disgust, peaking Regina’s interest. ‘And I didn’t _obey_ you, I just wanted to respect your right to privacy,’ Miss Swan further clarifies to ensure the former queen knows she will never obey her, or anyone.

‘Yet still you did as I asked. Something new for the Idiot family.’

Emma grits her teeth to silence a ready retort, incredulous that Regina’s spoiling for a fight, at this hour, after _everything_... ‘Would you like this to be a useful conversation?’

The sheriffs blunt question doesn’t surprise the mayor. ‘Are you threatening me?’

The blonde is disturbed by Regina's assumption. _Shit! Wake up Swan!_ ‘No. I just don’t have the energy for arguments...’

‘You’re no doubt exhausted after the hours you spent tortur...’

‘I _didn’t_ torture you!’ Emma verbally seethes, though her body remains purposely sat and unthreatening.

_Calm down, Swan... Scaring the Madam Mayor will cause irrevocable damage. Breathe..._

‘If you weren’t one of _them,_ who the _hell_ were you in that... _that... Godforsaken place?’_ Regina stands, frowning in confusion, remembering Miss Swan’s words on the town line.

_She was there..._

‘Who do you _honestly_ think I was?’ the sheriff asks, intensely curious, as she leans forward on the couch, in anxious anticipation.

 _Dani,_ is the former queens immediate response; hope flooding her chest that at least one... _this..._ supposed adult is on her side, an ally, a... But she’d rather die than admit this to the idiot.

 _This_ was the reason behind Regina’s mini breakdown at the town line: the realisation Dani had been an _excruciating_ figment of her imagination; a self imposed, coping mechanism to survive her torment.

_Dani is... dead... It... she was a dream, a nightmare... Nothing more..._

‘I don’t know, which might explain _why_ I’m _asking_ you!’ she fires back to hide her grief and mortification for _even_ thinking Miss Swan could have been...

‘If you sit down and promise to have an open mind, I’ll tell you,’ the patronising idiot attempts to barter with the Madam Mayor.

‘If you think I'll keep an open mind for torture and...’ _Miss Swan knows, she said as much._ ‘... rape, you are _sicker_ than I thought!’ Regina volleys back with scathing disgust, her body swaying with exhaustion.

Emma clenches her jaw to silence her innate rebuttal; the former queen knowing _exactly_ how to enrage her. Even so, a part of her soul dies for all Regina’s endured. So, in an attempt to calm the Madam Mayors fury _and_ avoid waking the kid, the blonde whispers: ‘You _really_ want to know?’

 _‘Yes, Goddamit!’_ Regina seethes through gritted teeth, her anxiety overwhelming her as she practically stands over a seated Miss Swan.

'Then _sit_ down before you _fall_ down,' she meets the mayor's scotching fury with a ferocity of her own.

Regina abruptly sits, shocking them both. Emma nods her approval, prompting a rebellious yet feeble eye roll from across the room.

The blonde inhales a steadying breath, looks Regina straight in the eye and whispers one name: ‘Dani.’


	21. Testing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina struggles to remain civil.  
> Emma struggles to remain empathetic.
> 
> A nod to their unbelievable chemistry in Season 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued support. Every kudos, comment, subscription and bookmark means the world.

Emma watches Regina struggle to maintain her neutral expression, knowing the former queen would rather die than expose her feelings over this cataclysmic reckoning. The only sign of immediate distress, Regina's abrupt ascent to her unstable feet.

_She... No... she... can’t... Miss... Swan...? Dani...? Oh God! No!_

A low cry escapes Regina’s traitorous lips before she can silence it, causing her already bristling form to shudder with shame and anguish. The brunette clenches her jaw and fists, her features paling as a thin sheen of sweat coats her trembling frame.

_Breathe! God... dam... mit... breathe!_

‘Regina?’

The former queen hears and senses the idiot who _dares_ breathe her lover’s name; her eyes flood with unshed tears; her _entire_ being threatens to shatter under the strain of keeping every emotion, every trauma, every sickness, every deviance, _everything_... inside of her, hidden; her own body: a haunted husk for others’ heinous desires.

Flashes of her every abuser, their faces clearly defined in her mind’s eye, in the throes of ecstasy, her innocence obliterated; her mother _raping_ her over Dani's dead...

 _‘Dani...!’_ Regina quietly cries, moments before her body inevitably collapses under the weight of irreversible trauma, moderate hunger and severe dehydration.

Emma only just catches her; never thinking the Evil Queen would faint, collapse, break, even after _everything_ she’s been through over the past ten days.

The blonde’s spine continues to tingle in unpleasant empathy of the _sheer_ pain buried in the Madam Mayor’s one utterance, as she easily settles the weightless former queen on her couch.

She watches Regina’s face for any signs of internal trauma or nightmares. Seeing none, Emma works quickly, retrieving a saline and glucose combi bag from her safe and connecting it to the intravenous drip in her other hand.

 _Come on..._ the Sheriff coaxes impatiently, trying to find a healthy vein to plunge the catheter in to.

Eventually finding one after slapping the shit out of Regina’s wrist, Emma deftly injects then tapes the catheter, securing it to the unconscious former queen.

Emma wanted to do this since she'd laid eyes on the her... _held down_ and...

_Stop!_

She prevents further exploration of _that_ image, burned forever into her psyche as she breathes her first breath, relieved the Madam Mayor is _finally_ receiving lifesaving sustenance, so be it under unconscious duress.

Regina slowly awakens from an exquisitely peaceful slumber. She tries with all her might to sink back into the receding comfort of the alluring darkness; nuzzling her head into the silk pillow, in her attempts to shut out the world.

 _Home_.

The former queen eventually loses patience with the light shining behind her eye lids. With the last of the relaxation quickly evaporating from her muscles, Regina raises her arms to rub her eyes, only to feel a pinch in her left wrist.

The mayor abruptly opens her eyes, taking in the unfamiliar room, the unfamiliar tape and the unfamiliar IV currently injecting _fuck_ _knows_ _what_ into her veins.

_What...?_

‘Regina?’

‘Oh God!’ the former queen whispers, clenching her jaw in anguish, as the reality of her catastrophic descent into hell, crashes into her in suffocating waves. _‘Goddamit!’_

‘Regina?’ comes the nauseating tones of her current torturer.

_Snows spawn!_

She ignores the idiot, sitting bolt upright and tearing at the tape securing the line injecting the no doubt harmful liquid into her.

‘Stop, Regina... _please!’_ the homicidal imbecile begs from a foot away, her hands splayed in a desperate plea.

‘You’d _like_ that _wouldn’t_ you?’ the former queen retorts venomously. ‘For _this_ to do its work and _kill_ me!’ she seethes, unwrapping the last of the tape surrounding her wrist before wrenching the catheter; hissing and wincing in pain as the ridiculously lengthy needle _finally_ vacates her person; the metaphor not lost on Regina

‘How you feeling?’

The strange question causes Regina to pause and reflect.

 _I... I feel... good..._ she internally affirms, feeling the most... alive... she has in many, _many_ horrific hours.

‘That was a _glucose_ drip, Regina. To _help_ rehydrate and energise you,’ the idiot annunciates slowly, as though speaking to a child.

‘Why wouldn’t you _offer_ me food or water like any _normal_ human being!?’ Regina growls, her teeth gritted as she annunciates as aggressively.

‘Because you would have _refused_ it!’ Miss Swan counters fiercely, stepping into Regina's personal space; her empathy for the Madam Mayor, secondary to the infuriating buttons she continues to push.

‘Congratulations, you’re _actually_ right for once, Miss Swan,’ Regina’s refuses to back down, her stubborn sarcasm stinging as she maintains her stance, inches from the blonde. ‘Not one poisoned sip or morsel handed down by the likes of you, the _spawn of Satan,_ will _ever_ pass these lips!’ The former queen gestures to herself unnecessarily. It takes _everything_ for Emma _not_ to be gaze at _those_ lips, or slap the wildcat. 

‘How _dare_ you treat me like _this_ after _everything_ I've _done_ for _you!’_ the idiot finally shows her true colours, her vulgar intentions.

_They always do._

_‘There_ it is! What’s _really_ on the _Saviours_ mind!’ Regina pushes Emma back, surprising the blonde enough for her to stumble slightly. ‘So, what would _you_ have me do, _Saviour?_ To _thank_ _you_ for said _treatment?’_ the former queen asks coyly, biting her lip seductively as she stares into the idiot’s eyes. ‘Do _you want_ this body?’ Regina purrs, overtly playing with the Sheriff.

Miss Swan omits a low growl, excruciatingly aware the Madam Mayor is testing her. She takes a cleansing breath, before regretting it being in such close proximity to Regina _fucking_ Mills. ‘Don’t be like this,’ she whispers, her features flushed despite her best attempts to temper her arousal.

‘Why so crimson, Miss Swan?’

‘ _Stop_ it, Regina!’

‘Or else _what?_ You’ll _abuse_ me?’

‘I know what you’re trying to do,’ Emma states as calmly as she can, with the former queen so close, baiting her, arousing her.

‘And what’s _that?’_ Regina goads, purposely pushing her chest forward; almost touching Miss Swans.

‘I’m not like _them!’_ the blonde argues forcefully, her chest heaving with the fury (and arousal) rioting through her. ‘Whatever or _whoever_ the _fuck_ you think I am, I'm _no_ monster!’

‘Then _why_ were you talking about being a mass _murderer_ on the town line? And I swear you were _covered_ in blood?’

Emma’s mind is clouded by thoughts of preferring the more docile Regina, having forgotten how infuriating and manipulative the Madam Mayor can be. Yet there’s something insidious behind Regina’s taunts; a motivation to test the blondes resolve _not_ to touch her, to _not_ abuse her.

 _Is this all because of that... that place? Or is there even more to it?_ Emma wonders, attempting to rekindle her empathy for the former queen, before she throttles her. _Redirect your anger, Swan. Regina hates your parents and she's taking it out on you, for good reason... Breathe... I_ _am not my parents. I am not a monster. I'm the Saviour._

'I did what I had to do to save you. And I had a shower whilst you were... asleep,' she answers honestly.

'You're not Dani!' Regina's ire ignites anew, her eyes having softened with belief and shock at the idiots seemingly genuine statement. 

'I never claimed to be,' Emma counters gently, desperate to avoid another battle of wills that never fails to spark her desires and hunger to kill, in equal measure. 

'Yes you...'

'I was simply repeating what you called me. I have no reason to know that name and I still have no idea what he means to you,' Miss Swans states with such exhaustion, the former queen _almost_ believes her.

'You're trying to _fool_ me...'

'That's your game, not mine,' the idiot argues determinedly, though she takes a purposeful step back; finally feeling able to inhale a full breath, now she can't detect the former queens irresistible, applely perfume: Regina's natural scent. 

Rummaging through her mind for evidence to the contrary, the mayor fails miserably. 'You're _not_ Dani,' she repeats, trying and failing to reignite the dwindling flames.

'I'm not Dani,' Miss Swan agrees, causing Regina to eye her with disbelief and something even more unsettling.

'You're agreeing with me,' she notes, her Judas heart betraying her with a deluge of shattering emotions, at the finality behind the imbeciles truthful utterance.

‘Yes. I'd be lying if I...'

''You're... you're trying to lull me into a false sense of...' Regina asks, her body radiating with emotion she refuses to externalise.

'Why would I need to? Given...' Emma raises her hands in a inverted commas gestures. '... looking at it through your eyes, I have you? Why would I offer you clothes, towels, hot, clean water, a place to sleep, a drip to start the process of rejuvenation?' she questions, listing her evidence. 'Why would I go to _that_ cell? Why did I _stop_ them?'

Regina noticeably pales, remembering the idiot said she _saw_ them... 'That bastard oaf let me rot in _that_ cell for _two_ days before he...'

'Why did my magic go _fucking_ haywire and... and pulverise them?'

 _Emotion,_ is the mayors innate response. _Why would Miss Swan be emotional about...?_

Simultaneously, a film of perspiration materialises on their skin; Emma's caused by anxiety she's revealed too much; Regina's due to the very real fact Miss Swan wouldn't _admit_ to killing somebody, _multiple_ people, unless it were true. And she did it _for_ her, to _save_ her.

'No...' the former queen tries to immediately debunk that notion. She turns away from the idiot, to further refute her claims.

Emma senses the importance of this moment. She presses on 'Why would I wrench Snow off you when she was doing a pretty good job of strangling you? Why would I beat David's face in? Stop the mob tearing you apart? Punch Whale? Tear Henry from everything he knows?' The blonde remains routed, though every part of her aches to advance on the trembling Madam Mayor, to drive her point home. 'I saved you. And for no other reason than you brought up my son, for the first ten years of his life. I have no hidden motives, agendas or hopes.'

'You lie,' Regina realises, sensing the bullshit from a mile off. 'You do have hopes. You're an Uncharming after all.' The venom she tries to garner, fails her as her brain short circuits over the very real probability _this_ imbecile did infact save her life. 

'Okay, you're right. I hope your can heal from some of this. And I wish to help you, if you'll allow it.'

'No!' Regina denies it, refusing to believe this useless waste of skin and bone could possibly change allegiance so markedly. 'No!' 


	22. Euphoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina and Emma's stilted conversation continues... with some progress.
> 
> Warning for continued underlying mentions of past abuse.
> 
> Thank you to all those continuing to support this and yes, this is a new chapter.

‘What can I do?’ Emma asks, watching helplessly.

Regina rakes her fingers through her hair as she turns back to the blonde, looking her straight in the eye. ‘What do _you_ _want_ from me, Miss Swan?’

The weight of this question breaks Emma’s heart. ‘You don’t _owe_ me anything,’ she replies instantly, sitting in hopes of defusing any threat Regina may feel she poses; as well as to prevent the arousal pooling between her legs becoming noticeable through her thin slacks, after being forced to go commando since she gave her last worthy pair of panties to Regina.

_Concentrate Swan!_

‘Then _why_ would you list all your accomplishments, all your acts of _kindness_ ,’ the last word is laced with sarcasm. ‘... if you don’t expect _something_ in return?’

Emma sighs in frustration, but grits her teeth to silence the ready retort.

_Look at it from the Madam Mayor’s perspective. She’s in my environment. She’s lost everything beyond Henry. She doesn’t trust me, so her faith in Henry remaining in her life is fragile. Regina doesn’t trust me not to harm her, with Charming and White blood running through my veins... So, calm it, Swan. Regina's terrified, though looking at her, she'd rather die fighting than admit this._

‘I’m listing them to prove I’m no risk to you.’

The former queen scoffs haughtily, remaining stood as she continues to assess Miss Swan. ‘You realise how ridiculous _telling_ me you don’t pose a risk sounds?’ she questions with barely concealed irritation. ‘The number of times someone’s said _exactly_ that before they...’ Regina silences further disclosure, closing her eyes and shaking her head to rid herself of the demons behind her statement. ‘It’s like being promised a horse won't throw me when its yet to be broken in.’ Regina’s eyes glaze over in memory, as the Sheriff wonders whether she should speak or wait.

‘I can _hardly_ bare to be in your presence, let alone be _indebted_ to you...’

‘You’re not inde...’

‘Yes, I _am!’_ Regina shouts, gesturing heatedly as she paces the small combi kitchen/sitting room.

‘So, this means you believe me?’ Emma tries a different tact.

Again, the former queen pauses to reflect.

_I do._

‘Only a _moron_ would admit to a capital crime if they were innocent,’ Regina states before realising her folly.

‘Is the great Regina ‘Madam Mayor’ Mills _admitting_ the ‘Spawn of Satan’ _isn’t_ a moron?’ Miss Swan asks with sarcastic delight, causing Regina to noticeably bristle.

Instead of gracing that impossible question with a response, the former queen rolls her eyes in derision. Though, every fibre of her being wills her to verbalise the supposedly ingenious insults currently racing through her mind. The anticipated satisfaction doesn’t come.

When Regina reaches _‘You smug little shit!’_ she stops; disappointed with her brain’s weary attempts at silently biting the idiots head off.

It takes _everything_ to keep her mouth shut. But with the breeding and poise of a queen, the Madam Mayor is no stranger to internalizing emotions, indignities, trauma.

Regina abruptly chuckles at her own absurdity.

_What am I doing here? With Satan’s Spawn? Straining to silence an offensive litany of vitriol. And for what purpose? To prevent her realising she’s hit a nerve?_

_Why do I care? Why do I care what this... this... Miss Swan thinks???_

Emma watches Regina struggle to harness her emotions, conflicted in her wish to comfort yet dine on the former queen’s beautiful array of expressions.

‘I didn’t have a nightmare... a flashback, whilst I slept,’ Regina segues in an entirely new direction, her brow furrowed in confusion. ‘I don’t understand... Gold...’ she continues, staring at her palm where the wraith mark once branded her.

‘Magic doesn’t work in the real wor...’

The Madam Mayor abruptly twists her wrist; the action as innate to her as breathing. ‘I beg to... dif... fer....’

After several failed attempts, Regina lifts her thunderous gaze to glare at Miss Swan. ‘I could... in Storybrooke...’

‘Only after Gold poured the true love potion into the well,’ Emma gently explains, her soul shattering once more at how frightening it must all be for the former queen. ‘It brought magic to Storybrooke, but not the real world...’

‘The Land Without Magic...’ Regina whispers through a weary sigh. She closes her eyes again; the thought of being so powerless, so _human,_ taking her back to _that_ cell.

She clenches and unclenches her palm, hoping to somehow warm up her magic.

_I’m the Ev... I’m the queen. If anyone can break this absurd restriction, it’s me._

She tries repeatedly to bring heat to her palm, but to no avail.

Eventually, she part growls/whimpers in frustration before sitting down on the ascent chair with an almighty huff, staring at her hand as though its foreign to her.

‘I can only imagine how helpless you fee...’

‘ _Save_ it!’ Regina barks, raising her seething gaze.

'The way I see it, being without magic means you won't be cursed to experience nightmares, everytime you...'

'Only most...'

'I think you might have...' 

‘You’re _loving_ this, aren’t you? Watching the _Evil_ Queen, _powerless_ and at your _mercy!’_

‘You’re not at my...’

‘Oh _really?’_ the Madam Mayor cocks her head sassily. ‘You and I both know I may as well be a fish out of water here!’

‘Nothing’s stopping you from going back....’

 _‘Don’t_ insult my intelligence, _idiot!’_

 _Great, we’re back to this!_ Emma's own ire ignites. ‘Then _don't_ insult mine!’

‘You know your problem, Miss Swan? You _never_ know when to _shut up!’_ Regina volleys back, as both women stand once more. ‘This was _your_ plan all along, _wasn’t_ it? _Kidnapping_ me, making me feel _grateful,_ then... then _whatever_ you had planned for me...’

‘If you want to leave, you can,’ the blonde suggests quietly, again attempting to quell her own anger.

_Breathe Swan!_

This near whisper forces the Madam Mayor to pause once more.

_The door was unlocked._

Regina abruptly stalks to the front door, trying the knob, to find it still unlocked.

Emma grips the arm of the couch to stop herself following Regina into the hallway, wishing to give her some space, whilst hoping _with everything_ in her that the former queen won’t actually leave.

 _Henry’s here. She won’t,_ the Saviour reminds herself, realising how emotional blackmaily and creepy that sounds. _Shit!_

After what feels like hours but has been less than five minutes, the Madam Mayor stalks back into the sitting room; her posture fluid yet strained.

She eyes the now closed door where she prays Henry is sleeping.

‘Go check on him if you...’

‘I _don’t_ need your permission, Swan!’ she fumes cuttingly before she tip toes to the door and peeks inside, wishing her sleeping prince would give her some reprieve from the aggravating blonde. The relief of knowing Miss Swan hasn’t taken him away from her will have to do, for now.

Part of her aches to watch him sleep a while. But the idiot’s bedroom is sparsely furnished and sitting on the floor after those days...

 _No_.

The fact it’s _her_ bedroom causes any last arguments for this to vanish.

 _And it's perverted... watching..._ _Stop!_ the Madam Mayor slams _that_ rabbit hole shut.

 _He’s here, Regina. He's here,_ the former queen reassures and destracts herself, her hand tightening on the door handle as she closes it softly behind her.

She decides to make her way back to the sitting room/kitchen, to more easily evaluate her _perceived_ rescuer. As she enters, the smell of freshly ground coffee and smoked salmon invade her nostrils.

_Oh my God!_

Having been certain any food would repulse her, Regina's taken aback by her bodies knee jerk reaction to such simple stimuli: her mouth salivates, her stomach rumbles and her nostrils flare to inhale more of the delicious aromas.

Only when she senses Miss Swan staring at her, does she open her eyes in a bid to hide the obvious euphoria emanating from her face.

‘I was cooking this mainly for me and Henry. But I put a little extra on, in case,’ Emma murmurs to punctuate the awkward silence, in hopes of distracting herself from the near orgasmic expression that abruptly disappeared from Regina’s features. ‘Coffee?’

Regina shudders under the shame of being caught in the throes of sensory ecstasy. Yet the promise of food; of a hot, delicious meal and a scolding, fresh coffee is enough to make the former queen utterly forget herself.

‘Yes,’ she whispers, her tone so husky and wanton, Emma turns away before she combusts under the weight of her own sensory overload. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to take a break from this fiction as the interest appears to be waning and this story really does take it out of me, for very personal reasons.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my first fic attempt. Let me know what you think and whether you want more.


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